


Elladan's Biograph Script

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Outstanding AU/reinterpretation, Characters - Family Dynamics, Characters - New interpretation, Characters - OOC to good purpose, Characters - Unusual relationship(s), Characters - Well-handled emotions, Fellowship of the Ring, Humor, Multi-Age, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - Fast moving, Plot - Good pacing, Subjects - Culture(s), Subjects - Explores obscure facts, Subjects - Legends/Myth/History, Subjects - Politics, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Experimental, Writing - Good use of humor, Writing - Well-handled dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2007-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 157,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3831897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta.  Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed.  Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het.  Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How I Spent My Summer Vacation: 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

 May 3rd   
  
I arrived home on the 9-40 flight from the Grey Havens, which is the one I always take when coming back to Rivendell after time away at school.  Usually, dad and Elrohir and Arwen are standing at the gate to meet me, but this time, to my considerable alarm, there was no-one.  I checked my watch; the plane was fifteen minutes early (a first!).  I had time to sit in the airport pie shop and drink vile coffee (might have been tea- I couldn't tell) while guarding my 119 pounds of luggage and waiting for a ride.  I thought over my situation while I waited.   
  
I have just finished my 15th year at Grey Havens University (GHU), making the Dean's honours list, of course.  Originally, I had wanted to major in PE with an orc-killing specialty, but dad pointed out that with any luck Sauron's forces of evil will be eradicated soon, and my degree would be worthless.  Therefore I switched to political studies, and am now just doing the orc-killing things as an extra-curricular.  I made first string of the GHU team!  I was almost named MVP, too, but lost to Galdor by two crappy votes.  It's all a big popularity contest, I think.   
  
Arwen finally came round to give me a lift home, half an hour late.  She was driving a strange SUV.  When I asked about it, she said Aragorn got her a great deal from someone who knew someone in Rohan.  It all sounds very suspicious to me.   
  
May 4th   
  
I wanted to go fishing with Elrohir today, but apparently he has buggered off to Lake Town to stay with cousin Calion.  Who, I might point out, is not really our cousin.  Elrohir just calls him that.  I asked Arwen if she wanted to go fishing, but she was going for a picnic with Aragorn.  So I sat on the veranda and drank paralysers all day.  Alone.   
  
May 11th   
  
Nothing has happened all week.   
  
Actually, Aragorn fell into the fish pond yesterday, but that's about it.  Dad suggested I get a summer job.  HA!  No way!   
  
May 16th   
  
I got a job.  I now work for dad's office.  My duties include: filing documents, answering the telephone, opening mail, and typing memos.  Nothing too exciting happened at work today, but I did get to type the following memo:   
  
\-----   
     To: All staff   
     From: Glorfindel   
     Re:  Postage meter   
  
It has recently come to my attention that employees   
have been using the postage meter to stamp their   
personal letters.  Please be advised that this postage   
is not free, nor is it for frivolous use.  If emergency  
postage is required, rates for the meter are as  
follows:   
     48 cents within Greater Rivendell Metro area  
     65 cents within Eriador  
     96 cents within Ennor  
     $1,25 to Valinor  
Future abuse of postage meter will result in   
indiscriminate disciplinary action.   
\-----   
  
I distributed copies of the memo to everyone in the office.  Later, I saw Erestor using the postage meter to stamp his magazine renewal notices.  Obviously he did not read the memo.  I left another copy on his desk.   
  
May 21st   
  
There was a new memo at work today.  This one read:   
  
\-----   
     To:  All staff   
     From:  Glorfindel   
     Re:  Postage meter (again)   
  
Despite Thursday's memo on this same subject, abuse of   
the office postage meter is still at an unacceptable   
all-time high.  Borrowing 48 cents from the pop fund   
DOES NOT CONSTITUTE PAYMENT FOR AN   
EMERGENCY STAMP!  As of today, pop fund IOUs  
will no longer be accepted.  Please have exact payment  
ready at time of stamp purchase.   
\-----   
  
After I typed the memo, Glorfindel told me he was thinking of putting a pass code on the postage meter.  He's getting a bit psycho about it, if you ask me.   
  
May 23rd   
  
I was awakened this morning at exactly 6-29 by a woodpecker outside my bedroom window.  I threw a handful of ReptaBark at it from the snake habitat, but to no avail.  So I decided to go to work early as sleeping was no longer an option.   
  
Strangely enough, when I arrived at my desk, Glorfindel was standing at the postage meter putting stamps on what looked like cable bills and Val-U-Save mail-in rebate coupons from Wholesale Depot.  When he saw me, he muttered something about "official government business" and hurried back to his office.   
  
After lunch, I typed another memo.   
  
\-----   
     To:  All staff   
     From:  Glorfindel   
     Re:  Postage meter   
  
There will be no further memos on this subject.   
\-----   
  
May 29th   
  
I had the following email from Elrohir today.   
  
\-----   
From:  "the best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject:  miss ya lots   
  
DUDE!  sorry i wans't aroud when you got home but you   
know how it goes... got a sweet job workign for cal,   
he owns this restarant her that sell sauthentic   
noldorin type food... real dive hole but pays good adn   
free grub, get to live in the room upstairs.  youg   
doing antything good, let me know!   
  
see ya round like a record- ELZ   
  
ps, you seen my sin with sebastain cd, thought ipakced   
it but guess not....   
\-----   
  
It was nice to hear from him, so I suppose I can forgive his horrid spelling and appalling lack of respect for grammar conventions.  I sent a reply and told him all about the postage meter irregularities at work.   
  
June 1st   
  
I found one new email today.  At first I got a bit excited thinking it might be Elrohir again, but that soon turned to dread when I saw the message.   
  
\-----   
From:  "*Legolas*" <legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject:  HI!!! :)   
  
Elladan!!!  Got a message from Elrohir the other day   
and he gave me your email addy!  How are you?! I   
haven't talked to you in sooooo long!  Mirkwood is   
soooo boring... I was at this club yesterday and they   
played the *exact same songs* that they played last   
week!  How dumb is that?!   
\-----   
  
And the message just went on like that.  For 15 Kb.  In the end, I managed to discern (between endless exclamation points) that he wants to come here for a few weeks to visit.  After the initial horror wore off I manage to type a quick reply explaining exactly why that wasn't such a good idea.  Namely, we are out of Elf Food.  With any luck he'll be dumb enough to fall for that.  Last time he was here Elrohir somehow convinced him that Elves in Rivendell have to eat Elf  Food, from a sack like dog food, but made from dried vegetables.  He insisted on seeing for himself, and by some brilliant stroke of luck, at that exact time both Erestor and Glorfindel happened to be sitting in the dinner nook eating banana Chippos out of a paper bag.  For the next eight days we had him eating nothing but raisins and crumbs.   
  
June 2nd   
  
I received a reply from Legolas today.  Can't he take a bloody hint?!   
  
\-----   
From:  "*Legolas*" <legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject:  Re:  Sorry   
  
Hi Elladan!  Sorry it's a bad time for you!  But your   
dad said it would be okay, and I have my ticket   
already and the flight's on the 11th at 4-15 pm!  I   
hope you'll at least have some free time to go out and   
stuff!  You can't work *all* the time!  LOL!!! :)  And   
I'm bringing my own food!   
  
C U soon!   
*Legolas*   
  
>"Elladan" <elladan@rivendellonline.gov> wrote:   
>   
> Legolas-   
> It was nice to hear from you, but unfortunately   
> now isn't the best time to visit.  I'm terribly   
> busy at work, as is everyone else around here.   
> We just don't have the time necessary to devote   
> to you.  Also, we are out of Elf Food.  Erestor   
> and Glorfindel have struck out for the Grey   
> Havens.   
>   
> Sorry about this; I will let you know when a   
> better time for you to come would be.   
>   
> Elladan   
\-----   
  
So he went behind my back and arranged things with dad!  What a little rat!  And he's coming in nine days!  I'm going to have to get out of here before then!  Either that or kill myself!   
  
And I'm going to have to stop reading his emails.  Exclamation marks have started working their way into my everyday communications.   
  
I spent all day worrying about Legolas.  Last time he was here he borrowed my clothes without asking, left candles burning precariously on the tub tiles, and woke me up at dawn to ask if I wanted to go shopping.  And he knows all the lyrics to every Vengaboys song ever recorded.  And he sings them, oh yes, he sings them.   
  
I played Mortal Kombat II for a while, but that only made me angrier.  So I sat on the sofa and drank paralysers.  When I tried to get up I couldn't; my legs wouldn't work.  So I fell asleep.  I woke up sometime later to find Glorfindel asking me where Elrohir usually keeps the ReptaBark; he wanted some for his rosemary garden.  I got up to show him, but the damn tricky vodka was still being a hazard to my equilibrium and I tripped, knocking Glorfindel onto the coffee table and the remaining bit of my drink onto Glorfindel.  It made a stain on his khakis.  Now I'm sure to be perpetually on his bad side.  He's been a bit cool since the postage meter incident at work, and this certainly won't help any.   
  
June 11th   
  
Legolas has been here only five hours and already has caused more trouble than a litter of overcaffeinated goblins.  Within forty minutes of his arrival he'd broken a jam jar on the kitchen tiles, and within two hours he'd almost lit the stair runner on fire.  Then just an hour ago, when we were sitting on the terrace watching the stars, he tripped over the fairy light cord and bumped into Erestor, causing him to fall headfirst into the concrete railing and get his hand stuck between two pillars.   
  
Now he's standing on the driveway shooting arrows straight up into the air.  Which, if you ask me, might not be the smartest thing to do.   
  
LATER:  Legolas has just left my room, after informing me that I am not, under any circumstances, to disclose any information pertaining to the condition of the hood of Arwen's new SUV.   
  
June 12th   
  
I was in the middle of breakfast (oatmeal with berries, orange juice) when I heard the distinctly moronic beat of dance music start up in the West Plaza.  I ran out to investigate just in time to see Legolas, wearing only rollerblades, wrist guards, and perilously short denims, take off over a ramp, spin in the air, and land on one foot.  And dad was sitting next to Arwen's portable CD-radio, watching.  He  claims to be interested in "the sport of rollerblading".  Truthfully, though, I am fairly certain he is more interested in Legolas' short-shorts.  I note he didn't show up for work today.  I am going to die of shame.   
  
I wrote an email to Elrohir:   
  
\-----   
To:  "The Best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject:  You're lucky to be in Lake Town   
  
Elrohir-   
  
I know you were only trying to be helpful, but please,   
in the future, do not ever give my email address to   
your friends!  Legolas invited himself for a short   
visit, arrived yesterday, and has so far proved   
himself to be the biggest nuisance this side of the   
Misty Mountains.  You do not even want to know what he   
did to Erestor's second-best saucepan this afternoon.   
  
On the plus side, though, I found your Sin With   
Sebastian CD.  It was in Arwen's CD-radio this   
morning.  Dad claims he put it there.  I asked him   
where he found it, and he mumbled something   
unintelligible about the back seat of his car- wasn't   
sure what that was all about.  You should ask him.   
  
Elladan   
\-----   
  
June 14th   
  
Arwen has broken up with Aragorn again.  She blames him for the damage to her SUV.  I was about to tell her about Legolas and the arrows, but she told me to "F#*% off".  Maybe it's a good thing she's no longer with Aragorn.  She's had a remarkably foul mouth these past few years.  Those rangers are a terrible influence.   
  
I asked Aragorn if he was upset, but he just shrugged.  Then he told me he was going to a "wicked party" on Amon Sûl tonight, and asked if I had any pipeweed.  I said, "No."   
  
June 16th   
  
I went looking for Legolas this morning in purpose to question him about the peculiar burnt spot on the grass outside my bedroom window.  The poncy wanker was wearing his short-shorts again, squatting next to the flower pond and using a minnow net to skim out the locusts (which he then dumped into the fish pond).  I didn't bother to ask why he was doing this; I just backed away slowly.  He was humming the Scooby Doo theme song.   
  
Then just an hour ago dad came over to my room moaning about how he'd been in his bare feet walking about the grounds when he trod on a pile of locusts mysteriously congregating on the tiles alongside the fish pond.  I told him to take the matter up with Legolas, who was at fault, and whose room is down the corridor.  He got a funny look on his face and said he would.  I haven't seen him since.   
  
In hindsight, I probably should've kept my mouth shut.   
  
June 21st   
  
Arwen and Aragorn are back together.  He brought her a new SUV, white with chrome bits, from Rohan.  The licence plate frame says, "Éodor's Automall, 3 Leagues South of Edoras on Highway 16".  I'm fairly certain it's stolen; Aragorn hasn't been to Edoras in years.   
  
I haven't seen Legolas all week.  I also haven't seen dad all week.  My mind reels at the possibilites.   
  
June 23rd   
  
Dad came home today, with Legolas.  His story is that they won a golfing holiday from a radio trivia show and spent the week in Hollin.  I noted that they had no golf clubs.  He said they rented.  I asked what his best score was.  He looked flustered and didn't answer.  I asked why he hadn't said anything about this holiday earlier.  He said he left a note for me under the King Turgon coronation tea creamer.   
  
Honestly, I don't know what to think.  I might have a talk with Legolas later, after he gets off the phone with his mum.   
  
LATER:  Legolas has just left my room.  I tried to have a discussion with him regarding the scandalous "golfing" holiday, but he talked nonstop about his favourite music videos for a good forty minutes so that I completely forgot what I wanted to say.  Then he mentioned he was thinking of doing political studies at GHU next semester.  I asked him why he didn't just go to Mirkwood Community College, and he told me that only losers go there.  It was all I could do to keep from pointing out the obvious.  Then I lied and said I was transferring to the University of Rivendell.  He said he was thinking of applying to U of R too.  I said he should definitely look into that.  Let Elrohir deal with him all semester!   
  
3 am:  Can't sleep.  Everyone singing.  And not normal songs, oh no.  That would be acceptable.  They are, in fact, singing insipid songs recalled (often poorly) from childhood.  Erestor's distinctive wailing can be heard clearly above all the rest, belting out the words to "Robin in the Rain", despite the fact that everyone else seems to be singing some song about pumpkins.  WHY?!  WHY?!  WHY?!  I HAVE TO WORK AT 9 TOMORROW!  SO DO THEY!!!   
  
4 am:  Still singing.  I am fairly certain they are making up the words as they go along.  Legolas has joined them, making up a song about eggs.  His adjectival vocabulary seems to be limited to the word "nice", though "yummy" has come up twice as well.   
  
June 24th   
  
I half expected everyone to be grouchy at the office today, but strangely enough I saw nothing but bright eyes and dopey grins.  Even on Glorfindel, who is usually about as jolly as a badger.  It all makes me very suspicious of something, though I'm not sure what.   
  
Around 10-30 Glorfindel came by to say that Erestor wanted to see me in his office.  I tried to explain that I needed to stay up front to answer the telephones, but Glorfindel said that he would handle any messages, and that he was expecting an important call anyhow.  So I was sent to see Erestor.   
  
His office wasn't hard to find; it says "ERESTOR'S OFFICE" in big letters on the door.  I stepped inside to be greeted by an armada of stick-on labels, printed from the laser printer in full 24-bit colour.  On top of "Erestor's shelf" sat "Erestor's out basket" and "Erestor's appointment book".  Across from that was "Erestor's desk", which held "Erestor's stapler", "Erestor's scissors", "Erestor's calendar" and "Erestor's pen cup", among other things.   
  
I sat down in what I assumed to be "Erestor's guest chair", though I didn't see a label on it (it could have very well been under the seat- I was afraid to look).  Then I found myself face to face with Erestor himself.  I was a bit surprised that he didn't have a nametag.  He was, however, holding a coffee mug that had his name written in cheesy geometric lettering.   
  
Erestor offered me a cup of coffee from "Erestor's private coffee pot".  I declined.  He then proceeded to ramble on about how I'd been working here for over a month now, and how he was pleased with my efforts and abilities as an employee.  Then he asked if I had any questions or concerns regarding the workplace.   
  
I told him about my squeaky desk chair wheel and the fact that my computer's keyboard has given me serious electrical shocks five times in the past two weeks.  He nodded and said, "Uh-huh" after every few words.  It got a bit unnerving.  Eventually I couldn't take it any more and just stopped talking.  He stopped nodding, but kept staring at me with his frighteningly blue eyes.  I never noticed this before, but I think he wears coloured contacts.   
  
When the situation reached ultimate creepiness, I knew it was time to leave.  I quickly excused myself to go back to my desk, and nearly crashed into "Erestor's coat tree" in my haste to leave.  Glorfindel was sitting in my squeaky chair playing Freecell and talking on the telephone.  When he saw me coming, he said, "I'll see you later, babe," and hung up, then went back to his office without a word.   
  
At noon Erestor came by and asked me if I wanted to go out with him.  I said no, I'd brought a lunch from home today.  He looked oddly disappointed.   
  
I came home after work and checked my email; no news from Elrohir.  I'm getting a bit worried.  He quite possibly could have drowned in the lake long ago.  He's not too good at swimming, especially when he's drunk (which is most of the time).   
  
1-30 am:  I just realised that Erestor didn't ask me if I wanted to go out for lunch.  And that Glorfindel used the word "babe" over the telephone.  I am suddenly strangely worried.  Who was Glorfindel talking to?  And why do I care so much?  And why was Erestor talking to me?  Does Erestor like me?!  Did he mistake my clumsy nervousness in his office today for the signs of a childish crush?  And worse, do I like Glorfindel?!  It's all very confusing, not to mention ludicrous!  Oh no... 


	2. How I Spent My Summer Vacation: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

 June 28th   
  
Things have been a bit awkward at work since Monday night's revelation.  I try to avoid Erestor, but he makes that very difficult by hanging about near the fax machine (which is conveniently right beside my desk).  I am fairly certain all the paper jams are caused by him purposely putting substandard copies through the feeder so that I have to go over there and bend down just to unstick it.   
  
Of course it was just my luck that when I was in the middle of unjamming the sixth paper of the day, Glorfindel came out from his office just in time to see me positioned in a very undignified manner.  Erestor was standing perilously close.  Glorfindel asked what was going on, and I said I was explaining the fax machine to Erestor.  He shook his head and said, "Looks more like the fax of life," which made Erestor laugh madly.  He sounded a bit like a sick hyena (I know this because I saw a documentary about hyena health on the Discovery channel the other week).   
  
If I didn't feel so funny about it, I would have punched Glorfindel in the groin.  I was at exactly the right height to do it, too.   
  
June 30th   
  
I finally received an email from Elrohir today.  However, after reading it over at least ten times, I am still completely baffled as to its meaning.   
  
\-----   
From:  "The Best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject:  (none)   
  
hello there hoodoo tis elrohir of the gereen email   
sinner wolverine the snake bear what language is   
hoodo? is it voodoo?  hoodoodoodoodoodoodoo! when am   
icoming home elladan? aragorn?is legolas sitll alive./   
is l.,egolas still alive? are you guys ever coming   
here, there i go again on a mad randt.  aragorn is a   
snake bear.bhoiws the eating imiss you guys do one for   
me if that s cool.......i bet your rooms till has the   
perfect smeel, maybe i'll ring you or somehow have a   
mistidrected telephone message go to your address.,   
I LOVE YOU=ELROHIR   
\-----   
  
I showed the email to Legolas, and he told me that he'd had a message from Elrohir as well, only his message was just the word "focus" repeated 418 times (he counted).  Then he suggested we play Monopoly.   
  
I sometimes wonder whether Legolas has any train of thought whatsoever, or just a bunch of random cars zipping around on unconnected tracks.   
  
July 1st   
  
There was no work today on account of how it's a festival of some sort celebrating something to do with one of the Valar.  Nobody remembers which one any more; they just use the day as an excuse to drink and act indecently, and play bad music all night without the neighbours complaining.   
  
Dad was wearing an oversized novelty foam cowboy hat and carrying a can of lager in each hand.  He was watching with a dumb smile as Legolas tried to hit a piñata shaped like a hotdog.  Legolas was wearing a wet suit and swim fins.  I think he'd been in the river again.   
  
A few feet away, Erestor had organised a blindfolded three-legged race.  I tried to flee before he saw me and tied himself to my leg in a fit of misguided, insane passion (as he was likely to do- he had a shifty look in his eyes), but I accidentally crashed into Arwen, who was carrying a tray of devilled eggs to her volleyball team.  I don't even want to talk about what happened next.   
  
Anyway, I'm now safely in my bedroom, after having spent the past half hour carefully removing a caramel apple from my hair.  From my window, I can hear Erestor trying to organise a pickle-eating contest.  Legolas sounds strangely enthusiastic.   
  
As far as I can tell, this festival seems to be in honour of Goofwë, the Vala of Tomfoolery.   
  
LATER:  Sometime after the pickle-eating contest (dad won), I realised that I hadn't seen Glorfindel all night.  Being concerned about his well-being, I decided to go and casually knock at the door and casually ask if I could borrow his "I'm With Ingwë" ski hat to wear down to the festivities.   
  
I knocked, he yelled, "Come in," so I went in.   
  
Glorfindel was lying on his bed wearing naught but gold satin shorts, holding a 26 of rye in one hand and a pipe in the other, and watching an obscene programme on cable.  He was also on his mobile, saying, "Right, sweetness, ring me tomorrow, yeh?"  Then he hung up and motioned for me to sit next to him on the tiger-print velour duvet cover.  His room smelled like Aragorn's van.   
  
I felt a bit strange sitting there next to him, especially after he put his arm around me and offered me a swig from his  mostly-empty bottle.  I note he didn't offer to share his pipe.  He talked nonsense at me for half an hour, spouting wisdom on the following subjects in this order: girls, boobs, chocolate sauce, expensive cars, leather upholstery, leather shoes, boobs, lingerie, girls, and perfume.   
  
During this time I said nothing for fear that if I opened my mouth it would do something totally against my better judgement that would surely get me into trouble tomorrow.  The obscene programme wasn't helping any.  Then at exactly 11-24 he went a bit googley-eyed and passed out across my chest, spilling the remainder of his drink on my trousers (payback for the paralyser, I suppose).  I carefully put his pipe onto the bedside table atop a pile of indecent magazines so that it wouldn't set the duvet on fire.   
  
I stayed and watched the telly for a while, just to make sure Glorfindel didn't choke on his tongue and die or anything, of course.  Before I left, I casually checked the numbers on his mobile.  The last caller was someone named "Candir", at 10-38 pm, so Glorfindel was probably talking to this Candir when I knocked.  But the only Candir I can think of is the fellow who owns the waffle shop across the river, and he's married with two daughters.  Surely Glorfindel wouldn't go for him?!   
  
July 2nd   
  
Glorfindel said nothing about last night at work today.  I said nothing as well.  The day passed in awkward silence.  Either he is embarrassed at his shameful behaviour, or he doesn't remember a thing.   
  
Most likely the latter.   
  
July 3rd   
  
There was nothing to do at the office today, so between rounds of seeing how many times my chair would spin without me touching the floor, I made the following lists:   
  
WHY I AM NOT ATTRACTED TO ERESTOR   
*He is older than dad and acts like it.   
*He labels everything, as if anyone wants to steal "Erestor's mousepad".   
*He has a dumb coffee mug with his name written on it.   
*He uses phrases like "thanks a million" in a sincere, white-bread way.   
*He sellotapes his socks to his legs so they don't fall down.   
*His favourite food is corn dogs, especially of the on-a-stick variety.   
  
WHY I MIGHT BE ATTRACTED TO GLORFINDEL   
  
*He is older than dad but doesn't care.   
*He has a very liberal (read: socialist) policy regarding ownership and sharing.   
*He has a clever coffee mug with "My Parents Had Sex And All I Got Was This S#!**y Life" written on it.   
*He uses phrases like "thanks a million" in an ironic, post-modern way.   
*He wears trousers long enough that you can't see his socks.   
*He has been a vegan since the start of the First Age, long before it was trendy.   
  
July 5th   
  
A strange-looking skinny blonde girl showed up at the office today, just as I was getting ready to leave for the day.  She was wearing about fifty plastic bracelets, sparkley jeans, far too much black eye makeup, and a top that said "HOTTIE".  At least I'm guessing that was a top.  It might have been a sticker.   
  
She hung about in the reception area as I shut down my computer and switched off the fax and Xerox.  I assumed she'd wandered in by accident and would soon leave when she realised she was in the wrong place, so I ignored her.  But she didn't leave.  She kept staring at the staff photo on the wall (the one that's not been replaced since the Second Age and features Gil-galad standing front and centre giving his smarmy smile to the camera).   
  
I tried to sound as condescending as possible when I asked if I could help her, but she didn't seem to notice.  She just said, with a mouthful of purple bubblegum, "Yah, I'm here to see Glorfindel."  I was about to ask the purpose of her visit when Glorfindel rounded the corner at an impressive speed and said that he'd take care of the situation and that I should go home without him.  I pointed out that he was giving me a ride.  He threw the keys to his Lexus at me and all but shoved me out the door.   
  
I drove home in a state of confusion.  Why would that girl want to see Glorfindel?  She's far too young to be interviewed for a job; she looks like she'd still be in highschool.  And besides, Erestor and dad do all the hiring.  Glorfindel's just the chief accountant.  Is she a long-lost relation of his?  Was she selling something?   
  
As I pulled into the garage, Glorfindel's mobile (which he had conveniently left on the passenger seat) rang.  The number ID said "Candir", so of course I answered (in case the call was important).  The fellow on the other end, presumably Candir himself, said that he was worried about his daughter who hadn't been home all day, and that he was trying all the numbers programmed into her memory dial- did I know where she was?   
  
I truthfully replied that I didn't know who she was. He said her name was Aralindë.  Then he asked who I was.  I lied and said he'd reached the Cineplex box office.  He seemed satisfied with that, and hung up.   
  
Aralindë?!!!   
  
July 6th   
  
Glorfindel didn't come home until past midnight last night.  He looked disturbingly chipper.  I didn't bother to ask who Aralindë is.  I have a dreadful fear that I already know.   
  
I spent the day playing video games with Legolas.  I thoroughly kicked his butt at Bust-A-Move.  I then told him about the suspected Aralindë and her superhero-tight sparkley jeans and not-quite-there top.  He said she sounded like a skank.   
  
Legolas, I might point out, was wearing a pink fishnet vee-neck and black vinyl trousers.  He'd written my dad's name on his arm with a jiffy marker.   
  
July 8th   
  
The skinny blonde girl was back at the office today at quarter to five, wearing knee-high platform boots, a shiny halter top that said "DIVA", and a mini skirt that looked a few sizes too small.  I wordlessly pointed her in the direction of Glorfindel's office.  She wordlessly smiled and pranced off as if she already knew the way.  Erestor was standing behind me. We both snickered at Glorfindel's expense.   
  
At least I though it was Glorfindel's expense.  When I got home, Legolas found a laser label stuck to my back that said "Erestor's Elladan."  So Erestor could have very well been snickering at me.   
  
July 9th   
  
I had a funny dream about Erestor last night.  Perhaps I don't find him so repulsive after all.   
  
July 12th   
  
The blonde girl has been to the office every day so far this week.  Her tops have said, in order: Tuesday- "FLIRT", Wednesday- "HONEY", yesterday- "SEXY".  Erestor and I have started a betting pool as to what her top will say today.  My vote is with "PRINCESS".  Erestor thinks "POPSTAR".   
  
At about 10-30 I managed to corner Glorfindel in the coffee room while he was filling up his "My Parents Had Sex..." mug.  I must admit that the mug did distract me from my mission- while waiting for him to finish stirring in the sugar (he always takes forever with that) I realised that I can't imagine Glorfindel having parents.  I guess I always just assumed he's the result of a genetics experiment gone horribly good.   
  
However I did manage to stand in his way long enough to prevent him from leaving while I tried to remember exactly why it was I'd accosted him in the first place.  The whole parents thing threw off my concentration.  But I did eventually manage to blurt out some semblance of an accusation regarding his little sparklejeans Lolita.  After a few lame excuses he broke down and confessed all.  Her name *is* Aralindë, she is 5'4" and weighs approximately 95 pounds, and they have been carrying on this ridiculous liaison since April.  They met when he went to her highschool as a guest speaker to explain to her social studies class how the municipal budget system works.  She is forty-eight years old.   
  
Forty-eight!  He is nearly 147 times her age!  I worked it out on the adding machine on his desk when he was gone for lunch.  Dad is going to have a fit when he finds out.  However, as finding out will require him to pay attention to something other than Legolas for a few minutes, this is not likely to happen.   
  
Aralindë showed up right on schedule, wearing a top with a picture of a butterfly on it.  Nobody won the betting pool.   
  
July 14th   
  
Due to unacceptable noise coming from Glorfindel's room down the corridor, I am now sleeping on the top bunk in Legolas' room.  At first I was sure that I'd never sleep, given that he talks nonstop about anything and everything, but around midnight he got up to go to the biff and never came back.  Either he was murdered by a band of hired assassins, or else hijacked outside the bathroom door by dad.  To preserve my sanity, I'm going to choose to believe in the assassins theory until proved otherwise.   
  
July 16th   
  
Aralindë has dumped Glorfindel!!!  This came about late last night after she learned that, despite his prestigious government paycheque, he will not pay for her plane fare to Gondor for some rock festival in August.  In an attempt to quickly snag an older and richer boyfriend, she is now hitchhiking to the Grey Havens to hit on Círdan.  HA!  Good luck!   
  
Glorfindel is down at the Bottom of the Barrel pub getting thoroughly wasted.  I think I will go console him. By buying him a drink, I mean.   
  
July 17th   
  
I ended up consoling Glorfindel until well past midnight last night.  I tried to explain that the breakup was for the best, and that Aralindë was a shallow, selfish brat, but he was beyond reason and just kept sobbing into something black and lacy that I sincerely hope was a handkerchief.  Eventually I convinced him that he could drink just as well, if not more cost-effectively, at home in bed, and helped him out to his car.  Along the way he sobbed that I was his best friend in the whole world.  Then he swore at me and told me to quit touching his bum (it was an accident).   
  
He was sick twice on the way home.  I had to half drag him up the steps and down the corridor to his room and then help him out of his soiled clothes (not that I minded at all- I am always willing to help out a friend in need).  I tucked him nicely into bed and gave him a goodnight kiss on the forehead, but he kicked off the duvet while whining that he couldn't handle the tiger-print because it reminded him of Aralindë.  He only wanted his pink blankie, the one his mum made when he was three.   
  
I spent the next ten minutes looking for a 7000-year-old pink blankie.  I found a dirty greyish thing in one of his dresser drawers beneath a collection of ratty old clothes.  It looked like it may have been pink back at the beginning of the First Age, so I tucked this around Glorfindel and he appeared to calm down considerably.  Only the blankie was quite small and he had to curl up to fit under it.   
  
He looked very sad and lonely all scrunched up under his blankie, so I suggested that maybe he'd be better off staying with me in my room.  But he said no.  It was worth a try.   
  
I had to clean up his car this morning before I took it to work (by myself- he is in no state to get out of bed).  I would have made him clean up his own mess, but he'd been drinking steadily for the past 24 hours and I didn't trust him not to try to drink the upholstery shampoo.   
  
Now he's flopped over in bed, still drinking.   
  
July 18th   
  
Glorfindel is still moaning on about Aralindë.  Legolas is still here.  Erestor is still sticking labels on me.  Dad is still being lecherous.  And Aragorn has been trying to be my best friend ever since Arwen left for elite volleyball camp in Lórien yesterday afternoon.  However, Glorfindel did let me comb his hair before supper today (he's too lazy and drunk to do it himself), so perhaps things will be looking up soon.   
  
July 20th   
  
Glorfindel stayed in bed all day today listening to the CD Aralindë forgot in his stereo- "Without You I'm Nothing"/Placebo.  When he started making up new words to the songs, I knew it was time to intervene.   
  
I went into his room to find him lying half-conscious atop a pile of empty bottles and other unmentionables. I drew up the curtains and he complained that the light was too bright.  I dragged him into the shower and he complained that the water was too wet.  I was sort of hoping he'd complain that his clothes were too covering, but no luck.   
  
I promised to take him somewhere nice to get real food that wasn't of the dehydrated chipped persuasion.  We were about to drive off, but unfortunately Legolas was sitting on the driveway doing something with croquet wickets, effectively blocking our exit.  The only I could move him was to put him in the back of the car beside Glorfindel and bring him along.   
  
I asked Legolas if he had any preference as to a nice place with good food, and he said, "Burger King."  It took five full minutes of explaining before he sufficiently understood the concept of vegetarianism.  His contribution after that was, "Burger King has veggie burgers."  I would have tried to convince him that perhaps someplace else might be better, but Glorfindel was getting a bit quiet and looked ready to start sobbing over stupid Aralindë again, so I just hurried to Burger King.   
  
Glorfindel announced that his veggie burger tasted "funny".  Legolas tried it, and assured him that it tasted almost exactly like a real hamburger.  This would be why it tasted funny.  Glorfindel has never eaten meat in his life, and wasn't sure what to expect.  In the end, though, he decided he liked it and we had to go back for more.  He has appointed Legolas to be his official food supervisor for the remainder of the summer.  Tomorrow we are going to McDonald's.   
  
July 22nd   
  
Glorfindel is still moping.  It has been a week now.  All he does is sit in his room and drink himself silly.  The Burger King intervention appears to have failed.  Legolas has grown bored with his position as food supervisor and is now flopped over on the sofa in his underwear playing Zelda on his GameBoy.  Dad is no help either- he's too busy watching Legolas.  It looks as if I'm going to have to cure Glorfindel by myself.  He was at least halfway sober when I went to talk to him, having run out of alcohol a few hours earlier and being too lazy to stumble downstairs for more.  I sat on the bed next to him, grabbed him firmly by the arm, and (looking into his teary, bloodshot eyes) said, "This has to stop."   
  
He frowned and said, "Sod off, Elladan."  I'd forgotten how grumpy he is when he's not drunk.   
  
I tried my best to cheer him up by telling him all sorts of unattractive things about Aralindë to make him realise he's better off without her.  She curses like a ranger, her favourite band is Creed, she's too skinny and suffers from plumber bum when her jeans slip down, and she colours her hair.  He didn't seem to appreciate my efforts.  In fact, he yelled at me for shattering his happy illusion that she's a natural blonde.  Yes, a natural blonde with natural purple highlights.   
  
I also tried every other scheme I could think of.  I offered to pay his admission to the cinema if he wanted to go see a movie.  I offered to make vegan chilli if he got dressed and came down for supper.  I promised to buy him all the Rev he could drink if he went to the dance club with me to look for a new cheap underage girlfriend.  But he just moaned that he only wanted his Aralindë back.   
  
Exasperated, I yelled that if stupid Aralindë ever did come back she'd probably dump him again PDQ once she saw the lamentable state of both him and his bedroom.   
  
He sat straight up and said, "You're right!" as he looked around at the horrid mess of bottles and magazines and half-empty Pringles tubes.  Then he ushered me out with instructions to fetch the vacuum, Bee-mop, loo brush, Mr. Clean, paper towelling, Windex, Tilex, Febreeze, Comet, and Lysol.  He has been cleaning like mad for the past four hours.   
  
July 23rd   
  
Glorfindel's bedroom is now on par with a five-star hotel for cleanliness.  He's even washed the walls and replaced all the burned-down candles.  Glorfindel himself is also shiny and clean, having washed his hair and put on fresh clothes.  Real clothes too, the non-stretchy sort with zips and buttons instead of elastic.  He's even wearing lace-up shoes.   
  
So now he does all his drinking outside on the deck furniture while watching nature instead of inside in bed while watching cable.  He's out there now.  He was drinking rum and Coke, but he ran out of rum.  Then he was drinking whiskey and Coke, but he ran out of Coke.   
  
Now he's drinking whiskey and Gatorade.   
  
July 24th   
  
Glorfindel came in to work today.  I was sure he'd stay home to drink, but he was in his office at 8-30, busily going at the computer.  He stayed at the computer all day, only leaving his desk for five minutes at lunchtime to microwave some weird thing that involved pita bread.  He was still sitting there when it was time to leave, clicking the mouse and staring at the screen with a maniacal glazed look in his eyes.   
  
I asked what he was doing, and he said, "Compiling a database of therapeutic resources pertinent to my current emotional condition."  I jokingly asked if that meant bookmarking porn sites in his Favourites folder on Netscape.  He replied with a disturbing, hollow laugh.   
  
I think he was.   
  
July 26th   
  
Aralindë has come crawling back to Glorfindel.  Not literally crawling, but close enough: she was staggering a bit and looked dehydrated.  She proceeded to throw herself upon the mercy of Glorfindel's raging libido.  Lucky for her he's a sexual deviant and will accept this sort of erratic behaviour so long as he eventually gets laid.   
  
I was glad to be able to go to work and be rid of them.  I got a ride with Erestor.  He had an Iggy Pop tape in his car.  He is really quite nice when I'm just talking to him and don't have to look at his freakish blue contact lenses.  I can almost forgive his irritating overuse of the word "basically" in conversation.   
  
When I came home from work I found Glorfindel sitting at the computer playing video pinball.  He cheerfully explained that Aralindë had won two tickets to the Gondor rock festival from the radio, so now the both of them are going to the show, in a hired Winnebago.  He looked strangely pleased with this.  I hope he realises that rock festivals can be hazardous.  The only music Glorfindel listens to is abstract jazz from the Second Age and other cheap crap that he probably finds in the bargain bin at Safeway's.  The CD in his car right now is a compilation of television themes to shows only old people watch.  I remember this because his indicator light blinks perfectly in time with the theme from Masterpiece Theatre.   
  
Later, when I nearly had a head-on collision with Aralindë in the corridor, she admitted that she'd won the tickets not from the radio, but by taking off her top for a Mirkwood television crew while declaring her undying love for the newest pop sensation to come out of the forest (whoever that is).  She made me promise not to tell Glorfindel.  And I did promise, though this seems like something that Glorfindel should surely be told.  It's times like this when I'm sorry I'm not a more dishonorable person, like Elrohir.   
  
However, she did not make me promise I wouldn't tell Legolas.  And he's liable to blab to everyone within a five mile radius, so perhaps Glorfindel will eventually find out.   
  
July 28th   
  
I went to find Legolas this afternoon, and found him standing in the kitchen scratching himself with a fishing knife.  I asked if he really considered that a wise thing to be doing, and he just stared at me blankly.   
  
Then I mentioned the pop-related programme featuring nudity as a means to win concert tickets.  I wanted to know the specifics, but he called it a "load of sexist crap" and refused to tell me what time it was on, or even what channel.  I said that I didn't realise he was such a feminist, and asked if he was opposed to the programme's objectification of women.  He said no, he was just opposed to their refusal to tape him dropping his trousers to win tickets to Shakira.   
  
July 29th   
  
Aralindë came to work with Glorfindel.  They stayed in his office all morning, with the door shut.  I got a ride with dad, who had managed to tear himself away from Legolas' one-man fashion show long enough to remember that he has a job to do.  I think he realised he'd been away from work too long when he sat down to log onto his computer and couldn't remember the networking password.  He had 129 new messages in his Outlook, most of them crummy forwarded jokes from Gildor.   
  
Around quarter of eleven he came down to the reception area looking for Glorfindel because he couldn't remember how to make a pie chart on Excel.  I lied and said that Glorfindel was in with a client.  Or at least I tried to.  I was a bit flustered and accidentally omitted the word "with".  Luckily I don't think dad noticed.  He was too busy remembering how the Xerox duplexer worked.   
  
For someone who knows so much about history and lore and so forth, dad is a real dunce when it comes to technology.  He still doesn't know how to play a DVD by himself.   
  
When I checked my inbox after work, there was another email from Elrohir.  A real email this time, which contained actual information, so I'm assuming he was at least half-sober when he wrote it.   
  
\-----   
From:  "The Best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject:  time to get out of hear   
  
you might not afgree with me but this is the paln...   
cal sold the restaurant to his friend mariens dad so   
were leaving lake town adn heading south... going to   
lorien first but then maybe gondor and who knows wehre   
else.  cal wants to open an new restaurant that seells   
authetnic laketown food/, he thiks that would do good   
in gondor wear peoiple dont travel much.  we got cheap   
flight sto caras galadhon leaving intwo days and then   
well take the bus from their, ive been making jewelery   
out of copper and turqoise and ambre and stuff to sell   
too, and cal also, we might try to sell that in   
ithilien... dont know for sure tho... ill email you   
wheni get to grammas place,.   
  
see ya round like a record   
ELZ   
\-----   
  
I wrote a reply stressing how nice it was to hear from him, so perhaps he'll get the hint and write me more often.  I also suggested he spellcheck his emails before he hits send.   
  
July 30th   
  
Glorfindel and his horrid girl (I cannot bring myself to write her name) have left for the rock show.  Without them to spy on, what am I supposed to do to entertain myself for the next three weeks?!  Legolas, who spent the day trying to fix his wind-up jumping tin chicken (it accidentally had a run-in with my foot), wanted me to go hiking in the mountains with him.  Frankly, I would rather stay home and be bored.   
  
So I stayed home and was bored.  Erestor lent me a DVD, though.  He has quite an extensive collection of obscure indie films I've never heard of.   
  
July 31st   
  
I watched Erestor's DVD last night.  He is suddenly much more interesting now that I know he's into hardcore S&M.   
  
However, I still couldn't look him in the eye when I returned the DVD this morning.  I was unsure whether this was because of some sort of giddy uncertain romantic interest on my part or just because he was still wearing his scary blue contacts.   
  
He lent me another DVD.   
  
August 3rd   
  
I honestly thought things were going along the right track.  I mean, I'm over my ridiculous obsession with Glorfindel, dad has finally come to his senses and stopped mauling Legolas in public, Elrohir is not dead, and I no longer find Erestor to be too icky.  Which is a good thing, because I think we're dating now.  Or at least we were dating.  I seem to have a talent for being perpetually single.   
  
Everything started to go wrong just after noon today.  Prior to that, I was floating though a life of blissful ignorance, completely oblivious to the fact that I was about to be thoroughly buggered by fate.  Also by Erestor, but more on that later.   
  
I woke up at 8-30 this morning with the sun shining into my eyes.  At first I was alarmed, since my bed is nowhere near a window, but then I realised I'd fallen asleep on the floor while watching one of Erestor's DVDs.  There were birds chirping and squirrels chattering and only a few white clouds in the bright blue sky- the whole proverbial nine yards to make up a  stereotypically perfect morning.  And I didn't have any crick in my neck, despite having used a wadded-up bath towel for a pillow all night.   
  
I somehow decided that this would be an ideal time to return Erestor's DVD, so I went down to his room and knocked at the door.  Of course he was still asleep.  There was a long wait and a surprising amount of foul language before he answered.  But when he did open the door, I was stunned.   
  
With uncombed, sticking-up hair and sleepy natural grey eyes, wearing a ratty old plaid houserobe, Erestor looked unnervingly beautiful.  The light coming in all golden and glorious from the window behind him almost made him look like he was glowing.  I would have fallen to my knees right then and pledged eternal adoration, but I thought I'd better give back the DVD first.  So I nervously held it out in his general direction.  Unfortunately I think I held it out a bit too quickly, because I accidentally jabbed him in the ribs with the hard corner.   
  
He scowled at me and muttered, "Thank you."  Then he looked about to shut the door, so I had to think fast.   
  
Seeing as I've never done anything like this before, I wasn't completely sure what to do.  I tried to think of what dad would do, and decided that would be too risqué.  Then I tried to think of what Elrohir would do.  But I didn't think quickly enough, and Erestor started to shut the door.  So I did the best that I could think of and said, "Wait!"   
  
He opened the door again.  I tried desperately again to think of something clever or at least halfway decent to say, but only managed to stand there foolishly with my mouth hanging open like a goldfish.  Eventually he said, "Do you want something, Elladan?"   
  
I think I managed to mumble something terribly interesting like, "Erm, well, I don't know, I just... I think... uhhhhhhh..."   
  
He put me out of my misery by saying, "Come in, then," and walking back into the room, motioning for me to follow.  I followed.   
  
While he put his DVD back on the shelf I tried to casually flop down to sit on the end of his bed, but my flopping was a bit off and I banged my leg on the bedpost.  I had to pretend it didn't hurt for the next ten minutes while he put on a Velvet Underground record (and by "record" I do mean 33 RPM vinyl; he is the only person I know who still owns these) and made the requisite smalltalk about weather and such and offered me the requisite drink.  I really didn't want any drink (I seem to have gone off alcohol due to spending so much time with Glorfindel these past few weeks), but Erestor looked surly and determined and I didn't dare refuse.   
  
After the talking and drinking he suavely moved on to the kissing by way of grabbing my glass away from my mouth and putting his tongue there instead.  I think this was a bit rude of him, but I was in no position to complain.  What I did complain about, though, was when he (after only thirty seconds!) went about trying to stick his hand in my pants.  So I said that maybe this wasn't such a good idea.   
  
He said, "Look Elladan, you woke me up at half nine in the f@#king morning to return my bloody DVD while standing at the doorway like a moron and then coming in here for a drink and taking up my time when I should be sleeping.  Now if you're not going to let me sleep in my bed, I damn well want to do something else in it, eh?"  I couldn't argue with his flawless logic.  Hand down pants action it was.   
  
This naturally progressed into half naked action, followed by mostly naked action, followed by completely naked.  I noticed that Erestor has a piercing someplace I never would have guessed.  It made for a very unique experience, though.  Afterward I managed to stay in the earlier-mentioned state of blissful ignorance for a good few hours, and fell asleep leaning on his shoulder.   
  
At thirteen minutes after twelve he threw me out of his bed for making what he considered to be a disparaging remark about Gil-galad.  How was I supposed to know he's Gil-galad's number one fan?!!  Well, maybe number two, after dad.  But honestly!  All I said was something completely innocent about not understanding Gil-galad's strange preference for always wearing bright floral print shirts, even in staff photos.  Granted I did use the phrase "worst dressed", but I hardly think that warrants being shoved naked into the corridor with clothes tossed out afterward!   
  
As luck would have it, dad came walking by just as I was pulling on my trousers.  He gave me a strange look and asked what I was doing.  I curtly said that I was getting dressed in the corridor, of course.  He said I should make a better effort to get dressed in my bedroom from now on.  I almost punched him.  Really, Legolas changes his clothes in public places all the time, so I don't see why everyone makes such a big deal when I do!   
  
Supper was a hazard.  Erestor kept scowling at me.  I'm sure he told dad about the Gil-galad fashion sense remark, because dad was acting distant as well.  More distant, at least, than was required after the corridor scene this morning.  Nobody around here appreciates me!  After all I do for them!  I drive them to work, do their washing-up when they're too drunk, put up with far more nonsense than I ought to, remind them how to use their computers, and even let them do unmentionable things to my heinie and they still act as if it's not good enough!   
  
Therefore I have made a decision to run away from home.  I will go to Lórien and meet up with Elrohir.  Surely he will be glad to see me!  And I'm sure he could use my help on his journey south.  Those mountain orcs prey almost exclusively on drunken college students, and as Elrohir appears to have been on one long bender since May, he will need protecting.   
  
I told Aragorn all about the floral shirt row.  He agrees with me.  So at least one person is on my side!   
  
He is going to join me in my running away and is now, as I write, out in the garage improving his van for the drive.  In truth I think he just wants to go on a road trip, but I will take his noncommittal grunts and shrugs as signs of support for my cause.   
  
We leave in eight hours.  If all goes according to plan, I may never see Rivendell again.  I am leaving a note for dad under the King Turgon coronation tea creamer, a note for Legolas on top of the Play Station, and a note for Glorfindel on his email. Erestor doesn't deserve a note.  I did, however, spit on his pillow.   
  
Then I realised he'd probably find that erotic, so I changed his pillowcase.  But I made sure the fresh pillowcase was an old bally, scratchy poly-blend one.  The jerk.   
  
Now I have to stop writing.  Staring at the dim LCD notebook screen is making my eyes water, and I need a Kleenex. 


	3. How I Spent My Summer Vacation: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

August 4th  
    
When I wrote last night that Aragorn was down improving his van for our trip, I assumed this meant that he was checking the tyres, topping up the oil, wiping the bugs from the windscreen, washing off the mud, vacuuming the seats and so forth.  But apparently I was wrong.  What he in fact did was remove the back seats and replace them with a manky old sofa he found abandoned in the alley behind the Shop-Rite, and make a cheap spoiler out of plywood and nail it to the roof.  Also, he stencilled, "OFFICIAL VAN OF SUMMER" on both sides, with red spraypaint.  
    
He proudly asked me what I thought.  I was at a loss for words.  After a few stunned seconds I managed to weakly suggest that maybe we should steal dad's Mazda and take it instead.  But while the novelty of joyriding in a stolen sedan did momentarily catch Aragorn's interest, the van won out in the end.  Not even better petrol mileage, air conditioning, and a CD player could change his mind.  
    
So he tossed my duffle bag into the back, and I reluctantly climbed into the front.  I think there was something spilled across my seat; it was a bit sticky.  Luckily, though, I'd worn my old jeans with paint stains.  I wouldn't trust my good clothes to Aragorn's van even if he spent all week deep-cleaning the upholstery.  
    
We are now two hours out of Rivendell and heading south slightly above the posted speed limit.  The plan is to reach Eregion tonight, camp out in a quiet ditch, and continue through the Moria tunnel tomorrow.  Then we'll camp again on the other side of the mountains and get to Lothlórien early Tuesday.  
    
LATER:  We have been listening to the same Peter Tosh tape, one Aragorn found in dad's old tape bin, for the past five hours.  I suggested we put on the Depeche Mode tape Galdor made me, but Aragorn refused.  Some people have no musical taste!  
    
August 5th  
    
The toll Dwarves were strangely absent from the Moria gates when we drove up this afternoon.  I was somewhat alarmed, since Dwarves never pass up on a chance to collect their outrageous tolls.  Of course this meant I was forced to figure out the stupid password by myself, and it was just my luck that the inscription is in Beleriandic Tengwar.  It took me the better part of an hour to get the whole mess sorted out and the gate opened, during which time that goon Aragorn just slept.  Just for that I'm not telling him the password.  He'll be sorry if he ever has to come back here later!  
    
In any case, it may take far longer than anticipated to reach Lórien.  Due to the absence of Dwarf guides and the fact that all the lamps have been vandalised, we have been forced to drive at an average speed of 15 miles per hour.  I still think this is too fast, however, given the high number of sharp turns alongside steep dropoffs.  Which is why I am now sitting in the back on the sofa; I can't handle having to watch as Aragorn almost drives the van straight off a cliff.  My nerves can't take it.  If we are going to die a horrible fiery plummeting death, I'd rather not know about it until the last few seconds immediately preceding the fact.  
    
August 6th  
  
We are still driving though Moria.  Or, more accurately, Aragorn is still hurtling forward like a maniac and I am still sitting in the back with my hands over my eyes.  In retrospect, we probably should have packed enough food to allow for this sort of delay instead of assuming we'd be in Lórien by now.  We've been forced to dip into Aragorn's emergency rations: a bulk family pack of lembas he picked up from Costco.    
    
August 7th  
    
We just passed a road sign that said, "BRIDGE OF KHAZAD-DÛM, 10 MILES"!  So perhaps there is hope for us yet!  
    
These past few nights I have been dreaming only of real food instead of factory-processed lembas, and a real bed instead of having to share the sofa with Aragorn.  He's starting to look at me funny, and last night he said that he'd never noticed before how much I look like Arwen.  It's a bit disconcerting.  And having to whizz out the back of the van because Aragorn doesn't want to stop (or even slow down) is unpleasant.  I have the dreadful feeling he's watching me in the rear-view mirror.  Which really gives an ironic new meaning to the phrase "rear-view mirror"...  
    
August 8th  
    
We finally arrived in Lórien late last night, making it as far as Haldir's flat on the outskirts of town.  Aragorn wanted to camp in the van again, but I flatly refused.  After yesterday's shameful display of sexual frustration after we crossed the bridge, I am not going near him again until he's had a good few hours alone with Arwen.  He slept in the van.  He's driving to Caras Galadhon without me, and I'm going to catch a lift with Haldir later this evening.  
    
So now I'm comfortably settled into Haldir's Hide-A-Bed, eating Froot Loops and watching the morning cartoons on cable.  I have had two showers so far.  After four days in the van, it is nice to be clean again.  My hair was starting to look rather Aragornish.  I don't know how he stands it.  The human lifestyle is beyond my comprehension entirely.  If I ever speak to dad again, I'm really going to have to thank him for choosing to be an Elf.  
  
LATER:  Grandpa is pacing about the front room worrying over his Bywater Country Press champagne bottle.  He won the bottle, along with a bookmark and a jumper, for being the one-millionth person to place a bulk order to the press.  That was over five years ago.  He's been saving the champagne for a special occasion, and I guess having me, Elrohir, Arwen and Aragorn over for supper qualified.  And it was decent champagne, too, for something out of the Shire.  
    
But after supper the bottle, which grandpa wanted to save because it had a special limited edition embossed Bywater label on it, went missing.  He blamed grandma, saying that she'd been jealous of the bottle ever since it arrived.  Grandma retorted with, "Well, if I am jealous, it's because you spend too much time dusting that bloody bottle while I'm left alone in bed!"  Then grandpa accused her of thinking of nothing but sex when there are clearly other, more important things in the world.  Like valuable but dusty champagne bottles that need cleaning.  
    
So now grandma is spending the night in one of the spare rooms, the one next to mine.  She displaced Aragorn, who now has to share with Arwen.  He didn't seem to mind at all.  I mind, though, because grandma is very loudly watching a cable programme that I'd rather not know she was watching.  Strange noises keep seeping through the wall between us.  I really hope they're all from the television.  
    
The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that grandma and Glorfindel are soul mates.  Perhaps if this champagne bottle row gets out of hand and grandpa separates from her, I will try to set her up with Glorfindel.  The downside to this plan is that they'd probably lock themselves into a cheap motel room indefinitely and nobody would ever see them again, but at least they'd be happy.  
    
August 9th  
    
When I went to make some breakfast this morning, I found grandma sitting at the kitchen table with Arwen having a talk about sex (as if grandma would ever talk for more than five minutes on any other subject).  Grandma was wearing one of her indecent nighties, one that looked less like a nightie and more like a ribbon.  She was drinking a margarita.  It was 8 AM.  She and Glorfindel really do belong together.  
    
Arwen was complaining about Aragorn.  She didn't at all agree with his assumption that just because the two of them were sharing a bed, he could make impositions on her sexuality.  She was forced to build a wall between them down the centre of the bed, out of sofa cushions, so that Aragorn would keep his overeager hands to himself.  Arwen had to save her energy for volleyball camp at 9-30, after all.  
    
I listened to all this while waiting for the toast to pop, then very slowly made a cup of tea so that I'd be able to hear grandma's response.  It was, predictably, very much in Aragorn's favour.  
    
Arwen rolled her eyes and said, with a dramatic sigh, "Never mind."  Then she went off to the laundry room, where grandpa was busy fishing a dead mouse out of the dryer vent, to ask his advice.  I suspect it will be very much in Arwen's favour.  Which is all Arwen wants, anyhow.  
    
I spent the afternoon sitting on the terrace with Elrohir eating nachos and talking about what we've been doing all summer.  I told him everything except the personal bits involving Erestor, and he talked a lot about his hair (in particular, that he's thinking of colouring it blonde).  Though I did manage to get a few pieces of actual information, the most significant of which was that Calion had already moved on to Minas Tirith to set up his Lake Town restaurant.  
   
I asked Elrohir what kind of food people in Lake Town eat.  He said, "Mostly stuff they find in the lake, like, fish and clams and weeds and that, but they also really like pretzels."  
    
Then he went on to say that he didn't really want to go to Gondor any more, and that he was thinking of staying in Lothlórien until school starts again.  He seems to have failed his Quenya 301 class, and needs grandma's help to study up for next semester.  I asked how he possibly could have failed when he has Glorfindel, whose first language is Quenya, at home to help him.  He shrugged and said that the class was at 8-30 in the morning and he skipped most of the time, and slept through the final.  
    
I suggested that he transfer to GHU, where nothing ever starts until after 11 due to the naturally lazy Telerin lifestyle.  He said he'd been thinking about that, but decided against it because he couldn't be arsed to pack up and move all his stuff all the way to the Grey Havens.  So he is too lazy even to do something that would facilitate his laziness!  
    
August 10th  
    
Grandpa has confided to me that he is thinking of buying a new car.  Actually, it wasn't so much "confided" as "explained in great detail".  He has pamphlets from about fifty different dealerships.  I asked him which one he was looking at.  He looked a bit lost and said, "Well, the Acura brochure is twelve pages long, so there's probably something good in there."  Then he asked me if I had any recommendations.  I said that, having been in Erestor's Ford, Glorfindel's Lexus, dad's Mazda, Arwen's Nissan, and Aragorn's GM, I'd have to recommend the Lexus, then the Mazda.  Grandpa nodded thoughtfully.  Then he picked up the Acura pamphlet again.  
    
Grandma was absolutely against the new car idea.  She said that if grandpa could spend an hour each day on a simple champagne bottle (which is still missing and presumed recycled), she'd never see him again if he had a new car.  
    
Elrohir suggested that grandpa buy something really expensive and red with only two seats and no roof.  Grandpa said no, he was looking more for something mid- to high-priced and beige with four doors and all the most up-to-date safety features.  Essentially just like his old car, only new.  Grandma then went on one again about how if he's going to bother getting a car, he might as well get something fun.  He simply opened the Acura pamphlet and pointed to a description of a "roomy back seat".  She's now all for the Acura.  
    
August 11th  
    
Aragorn and Elrohir have made a deal.  Aragorn has somehow come to the conclusion that Arwen would like him more if he were an Elf, and Elrohir has decided to be more active in pursuing his lifelong dream of becoming a Vanya.  Therefore Elrohir is going to give Aragorn Elf lessons, and Aragorn is going to help Elrohir colour his hair blonde.  They are in the bathroom right now, doing something that requires lots of running water.  
    
I opened the door to have a peek, and saw Elrohir with a bunch of lavender goo on his head, wearing a shower-cap, and pointing a hair dryer at Aragorn, who was sitting on the edge of the tub.  Elrohir was explaining to Aragorn that as he really was 14,6% Vanyarin (he worked it out via long division on the back of grandpa's MasterCard bill), he had some sort of ancestral duty to dye his hair blonde.  
    
Aragorn asked if this meant everyone would have to call him Elzohir on a daily basis.  Elrohir said yes, that would probably help with the Vanyarisation process.  
    
I left without alerting them to my presence.  Then I went to watch television with grandpa, who is very predictable in his routine and never does anything zany like this.  It is nice to have someone so stable in these trying times.  
    
August 12th  
    
Elrohir's hair is bright coppery orange.  And Aragorn's ears are full of sticky derma-wax and latex.  The transformations having failed, they are now sitting on opposite sides of the television room, not speaking to each other.  Elrohir blames Aragorn for not timing the bleach correctly.  Aragorn blames Elrohir for neglecting to mention that he had, in fact, failed his Art 208 (sculpture) class along with Quenya 301, and was in no way qualified to make cheap substitute pointed ears out of theatrical makeup supplies.  
    
Grandma came by a while ago to talk to them and say some naff crap about how Ilúvatar made them just the way they are and they shouldn't mess with His work.  Elrohir scowled and said that he didn't give a toss about Ilúvatar either way, and that as a Vanya he followed Manwë and Manwë alone.  He seems to be a little confused in his theology.  Then grandma went to Aragorn, but he couldn't hear what she was saying because his ears were full of gunk.  
    
She sensibly gave up and went shopping.  I wish I'd gone with her.  Much as I cringe at the thought of spending hours helping grandma pick out lacy underthings and cleverly-shaped miniature bathroom soaps, such a fate is, I think, preferable to refereeing Elrohir and Aragorn's death glares.  
    
August 13th  
    
Elrohir has broken the Second Sacred Rule of Lothlórien- do not under any circumstances disturb grandpa while he's watching the evening news (the first rule is simply "no trespassing").  He went into the television room this afternoon without thinking, and started whining on about Aragorn's shoddy beautician skills.  The combination of the intrusion and Elrohir's shocking orange hair must've sent grandpa over the edge.  He has locked himself in the bathroom with a tube of Dap and refuses to come out until all the tub tiles have been recaulked.  
    
Grandma is very worried.  She says that one of the bathroom windows doesn't fit quite right, and moths come in through the cracks when it gets dark out.  And grandpa is terrified of moths, having had a traumatic moth experience during his childhood in Doriath.  Also, there are sometimes drain beetles in the tub, and grandpa is terrified of those as well after a traumatic drain beetle experience at my parents' wedding.  
    
This has completely crushed my belief that grandpa is a normal, mentally stable person.  For all these years I have foolishly believed that he was the only reasonable relation I had, and now I learn of his evening news dependence and his fear of bugs!  I must be the only sane person left in the world.  Grandpa, grandma, dad, mum, Elrohir, Arwen, Aragorn, Glorfindel, Círdan, Erestor, Galdor, Gildor, and Legolas have all failed me.  The only person left is Haldir.  I think I will have to make a better effort at being his friend.  
    
LATER:  I rang Haldir to see if he wanted to go to the cinema or something, but Rúmil answered and said that Haldir had gone to a monster truck rally with Orophin and wasn't at home.  Monster trucks!  Haldir is obviously not as sane as he pretends to be.  Orophin doesn't sound much better.  
  
There might be hope for Rúmil, though.  He explained that he was at Haldir's watching cable, because he only has three channels at his own place.  Also he was there to water the plants because Haldir always forgets, and wilting ferns are a very sorry sight indeed.  He sounded a bit bored, so I asked him if he wanted to catch a movie.  
    
He said no, he had issues with the cinema ever since they raised their popcorn prices and refused to honour his free snack coupon, which, in his opinion, was in complete violation of the vendor/customer trust established by the issuing of said coupon in the first place.  Also there is naught but crappy summer nonsense playing right now, the sort of films that Legolas and Elrohir like.  But he did say that the Pengoloð classic "Fall of Gondolin" was being performed at the Centre of the Arts, and would I be interested in going to that?  
    
Of course I graciously accepted the invitation.  The theatre!  Real live theatre!  Finally something worthwhile and intellectual to do around here!  And accompanied by someone with whom I can have an in-depth and critical conversation, too.  However, as I forgot to pack my good clothes, I'm not sure what I should wear.  I did bring my semiformal black slacks, so maybe Grandpa has a decent sport coat I can borrow.  
    
August 14th  
    
The show was excellent.  Of course I'd seen it before (done by the Rivendell Amateur Theatre Company), and I've even been in it, when I was in highschool (playing the part of Ecthelion).  But this time, with the wonderful sets and costumes and professional actors, it was truly magnificent.  
    
Rúmil had managed to secure great seats, right near the front, close enough to see that Turgon's wig looked about to fall off during the death of Aredhel scene.  Also close enough to feel the heat from the pyrotechnics when the Balrogs showed up.  And I was quite impressed to see that Ecthelion got a real, or at least very real-looking, sword.  Mine was made of plastic.  
    
But the thing that really made the play, in my opinion, was the actor playing Maeglin, some fellow named Ardlor.  Not that the rest of the cast was bad, but he was the only one who managed to say his lines as if he were speaking naturally.  Which is not an easy thing to do when performing in that archaic language (I know this first-hand).  He makes a very convincing raging loony.  
    
Ardlor agreed to come for drinks with us after the show was over.  He and Rúmil are good friends, apparently.  We went to the all-night lounge at the Marriott, where Ardlor proceeded to inform us on every little detail that went wrong in the performance.  It seems Aredhel paraphrased her dying monologue (again), Eöl ripped his breeches right before act one and had to be fixed up with duct tape, Idril had to say one of Tuor's lines because he forgot, and Eärendil (played by the director's hyperactive young nephew) nearly knocked over a styrofoam pillar backstage  
    
Also, the makeup people ran out of wig tape, which would explain Turgon's wig slippage.  But this, in Ardlor's opinion, could have easily been avoided had the actor playing Turgon (who was a real jerk, according to inside sources) simply coloured his hair black like Eöl and Ardlor did.  I commented that I hadn't even realised Ardlor's hair wasn't naturally black.  He said that he was a hairdresser during the day and had done it himself (also Eöl's).  
    
Intrigued by this, I went on to explain the entire situation with Elrohir's bleach disaster and the orange hair: would he be able to fix it back to black?  He said that shouldn't be a problem, and gave me his card.  Then he said that he could also do Elrohir's hair Vanyarin blonde properly (he did Idril's), but I said no, that would get Elrohir too excited (not to mention strange-looking), so best to stick with the black and make no mention of blonde whatsoever.  
    
We spent the rest of the evening discussing the character of Maeglin in an in-depth and critical way.  Actually, Rúmil and Ardlor did most of the discussing.  I mostly sat there, drinking my paralyser and nodding.  Rúmil claimed that the "Fall of Gondolin" was a tragedy, with the unhappy and death-filled ending brought about by character flaws (namely Maeglin's jealousy and unnatural interest in Idril).  
  
Ardlor, though, insisted it was melodrama, as the villain Maeglin was a victim of society and circumstance.  After such an unconventional childhood in Nan Elmoth under the rule of an irrational father, he naturally grew up to be a bit unstable insofar as his views on right versus wrong.  Additionally, societal taboos hindered his relationship with Idril; culture had directed her to believe that loving him would be unnatural, while he (who had grown up with no such culture) didn't see the problem there.  Therefore his so-called evilness wasn't really his fault.  
    
Then Rúmil countered with his observation that the plot is very character-driven and all conflict and ultimate destruction comes from within, as is common in tragedy, whereas melodrama more often gives an outward obstacle to overcome, either successfully or not.  Ardlor nodded, and in the end they came to the agreement that the play belongs to a combination genre they have coined "tragedrama".  I was going to mention something complimentary about the costumes, but felt my comment would probably be beneath their intellectual level, so I kept quiet.  
  
Later, Ardlor told me he wrote his Masters thesis on Maeglin's role in Gondolin's downfall.  He is the best-educated hairdresser in Lórien, apparently.  I think I am going to have to spend more time with the both of them for the duration of my stay at grandma and grandpa's.  Their high-end conversation is far more appealing than Elrohir and Arwen's yammering about the price of vending machine softdrinks and jeans that don't fit right.  
  
August 15th  
    
I realised this morning that I've not checked my email since I left Rivendell.  There were five new messages for me: one from Legolas on August 6th, three from dad on August 9th (all the same- I think he must've been having problems with the concept of the "send" button again), and one from Glorfindel yesterday, along with the usual junk about wireless video cameras and naturally increasing my bust size.  And fifteen forwards that I deleted without reading because they were all from Gildor and probably inane.  
    
\-----  
From: "*Legolas* <legolas3000@royals.mk>  
Subject:  Guess what!!!  
  
Elladan!  Guess where I am!  After you left your dad  
was really worried because he still needs someone to  
ansewr the telephones at work, so he hired me!  So  
now it's lunchtime and I'm at your desk... did you know  
your chair squeaks???  But work is fun, today we had  
cake to welcome me as an employyee!  Lindir got  
some on his shirt and nobody told him, it was  
funneeee!!!  
  
Email me soon!  
*Legolas*  
  
ps- I accidentally saved over your desktop image  
with a kewl pic of a dog wearing underwear, hope  
you don't mind!  LOL! :)  
\-----  
  
\-----  
From: "Elrond" <elrond@rivendellonline.gov>  
Subject:  Talk  
  
Elladan-  
I must admit I'm more than a little disappointed  
with your decision to leave  suddenly with no  
explanation or even a goodbye.  I am sure you  
have your reasons, but really, I can't think of  
anything that would be sufficient to make you  
take off like that.  It seems very uncharacteristic  
of you.  In truth, I've noticed you acting a bit  
strangely all summer.  Is this in any way a  
response to Legolas' visit?  I am aware that the  
two of you aren't the best of friends, but I would  
hope that at your age you would be able to look  
beyond that.  
  
Regarding your leaving, though; does this have  
anything to do with your disagreement with Erestor  
the other day?  While I was a bit taken aback by  
your unwarranted animosity and harsh comments  
regarding Gil-galad, I can't see how this would make  
it necessary for you to leave the city.  I don't want to  
go into any more detail right now, but please, when  
you receive this message, give me a ring and maybe  
we'll be able to talk it through.  
  
Love, dad  
  
PS) Legolas has taken over your position at work.  
Leaving like this without giving Erestor notice was  
very unprofessional of you.  
\-----  
  
\-----  
To: "Aragorn" <strider@ardamail.com>,"Arwen" <evenstarchick@starmail.net>,"Celeborn" <celeborn@cgpolitik.lor>,"Círdan" <cirdan@seaway.ghu.edu>,"Elladan" <elladan@rivendellonline.gov>,"Elrond" <elrond@rivendellonline.gov>,"Erestor" <erestor@rivendellonline.gov>,"Foxilady" <naughtycheeky@ardamail.com>,"Gandalf" <gandalfgrey@istari.org>,"Lindir" <ldr5050@eriador.com>,"The Best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>,"Thranduil" <thranduil@royals.mk>  
From:  "LL" <glorafin@ardamail.com>  
Subject:  Vacation update  
  
Aiya ilya...  
  
Sitting in an internet cafe in Minas Tirith right now,  
looking up at the mountains.  Nice place but  
smoky- full of Men with pipes.  Fellow at the next  
terminal over is looking up Hobbit porn.  Tea is  
good though, so can't complain...  
  
Got tired of sleeping in the camper, so now have  
an ace hotel room near the Tower of Ecthelion,  
with shuttle service to major shopping centres.  
Ara took my Visa card to the Northstar Mall;  
haven't seen her since noon.  Only a few small  
coins left in my pocket... hope that gets me back  
to the hotel.  
  
If you want me to bring you a souvenir, get orders  
in now.  However, I'm opposed to being seen  
purchasing cheesy crap, so requests may go  
unfilled.  Still sending postcards to everyone.  
  
Rock show was good... very loud though.  Ara  
tried to crowd-surf  but was dropped into the mud  
and crushed against the stage barrier by mad fans.  
Had to be rescued by bouncers, escaping with only  
minor injuries (bruised shoulder).  Lost one sandal,  
both earrings, six bracelets.  
  
Time running down, that's all for now.  Will be home  
on the 23rd or so.  
  
Nam,  
LL  
\----  
    
So Legolas has taken over my job, dad blames me for the tensions with Erestor, and Glorfindel's email was nothing more than a cheap round-robin!  I was thoroughly disappointed, so I switched off the computer in disgust and went to the kitchen to microwave a tin of soup.  
    
Elrohir was sitting at the table with his orange hair all stuffed up under a ratty ski hat.  He looked like a thug.  Grandma was sitting with him, leaned over an old Quenya textbook, trying to explain how the plural of "Teler" is "Teleri", while the plural of "seler" is "selli".  I don't think he was paying attention.  
    
While the soup was heating I remembered about Ardlor's card.  I told Elrohir that I met someone who could fix his hair back to black, but he shrugged and said that he was getting used to the orange and that it was "almost kinda cool".  I offered to pay for the dye job (if only for purely selfish reasons- having to pretend that his hair doesn't shock me every time I see him is hard work).  He accepted my offer.  I think he's getting a bit tired of Aragorn calling him "pumpkinhead" all the time.  So I rang Ardlor and made an appointment for tomorrow morning.  
    
August 16th  
    
Elrohir's hair is black again.  As per our agreement, Ardlor made no reference to his ability to create blonde hair.  Elrohir did ask, but Ardlor quickly changed the subject to how he liked having his own hair black for the role of Maeglin.  Which impressed Elrohir greatly; I'd forgotten that he'd been Maeglin in our highschool production.  They talked about Maeglin for the next hour while the goo on Elrohir's head did its work.  
    
While Elrohir was under the dryer, Ardlor came to tell me that since there was no performance Monday, he and Rúmil were wondering if I wanted to come round for supper and watch an old tape of the Royal Lindon Opera Association performing Maglor's "Noldolantë" (starring the renowned Galwaith of Harlond as Fëanor).  I gladly accepted.  On Mondays Grandpa has his lawn bowling club over to play bridge and watch slides of last season's games.  Last Monday he conned me into being the slide projectionist, and I'm not too keen on repeating the experience.  
    
August 17th  
    
Grandma has taken Arwen to the mall to look for a new dress to wear to her volleyball camp windup supper tomorrow night.  Aragorn, who will be Arwen's escort, was supposed to go with them to find new clothes as well.  Unfortunately, he and Elrohir are speaking again (mostly they just say "dude", but I am sure they know and use other words as well), so the two of them ditched shopping in favour of "Gondor Ninja III" at the cineplex.  Arwen had a grand fuss and is now considering going to the supper with Haldir instead.  
    
So I am left all by myself.  Actually, grandpa is home, but he's busy down on the lower talan having a row with the neighbours about squishy old plums that fall down from their plum tree onto the flet on his side of the fence.  I can hear him quoting some municipal bylaw about exotic tree species being prohibited in most residential zones.  They are accusing him of stealing the fallen plums to use in jams and such.  
    
LATER:  Arwen, out on the lower talan with grandma looking for decent light in which she could be photographed in her new dress, has slipped on one of the squishy plums and fallen flat on her heinie, effectively soiling the dress and spraining her wrist at the same time.  Now she won't be able to play in the final game tomorrow, and is furious.  Grandpa is consoling her by threatening to sue the neighbours.  However, knowing grandpa's will and resolve in these situations, he will probably just settle for an apology and having the neighbour's son come round to clean up the plums.  
    
August 18th  
    
Arwen has cheered up a bit.  Grandma has altered the new dress into a shorter style to eliminate the plum stains, and has fashioned a matching wrist brace from the extra fabric.  Aragorn has offered to tell her team that she sprained her wrist falling off a bicycle when she swerved to avoid collision with a ruffed grouse on a late-night 20-mile fitness ride through the forest, so that she won't have to suffer the embarrassment of having her volleyball friends know she simply trod on a plum and slipped.  Elrohir made her real hot chocolate (not the powdered sort from the tin), with real marshmallows.  
  
Now everyone keeps looking at me as if they expect me to do something to help with her recovery.  I would offer to drive to Blockbuster and rent her favourite movies to watch for after the supper tonight, but I am far too busy with the video pinball on my computer to do any such thing.  I'm this close to beating Elrohir's high score.  
    
August 19th  
    
Elrohir's previous pinball high score: 4432500.  My new high score: 4779500.  I rule!  
    
Rúmil rang and told me to show up at his place for supper at 6-30.  He told me I could bring a date if I want.  I briefly entertained the notion of asking Arwen as a bribe to get her to forgive me for paying attention to video pinball instead if her yesterday, but dismissed this almost immediately.  Arwen would surely turn the sophisticated supper conversation to volleyball and then fall asleep during the opera tape, thereby thoroughly embarrassing me in front of people whom I desperately want to impress with wit and worldliness.  So I told Rúmil I'd be coming alone.  
    
August 20th  
    
The supper at Rúmil's was sort of a mixed experience.  It started off very well, with crab cream soup and a spicy lentil dish, and conversation on the definition of art.  Rúmil said that art must conform to the expectations of the culture within it is created, while Ardlor argued that art in any society would be a creative means of expression so long as it is innovative and pushes the boundaries of acceptance to provoke a virginal response, whether positive or negative, from those who experience it.  Then Rúmil said that by Ardlor's definition, a melted crayon glued to the side of a ketchup bottle could be art, while a masterpiece of sculpture from centuries ago might not.  
    
At this point I managed to gather the courage to hazard a guess that, if Ardlor's definition were correct, that that definition would be retroactively applied to artworks from previous eras.  That is, if the sculpture were innovative and exciting according to the ideology of the timeframe in which it was created, it would still remain art even the ideologies change with the evolution of society and culture.  Ardlor nodded and looked at me approvingly.  In that moment my entire existence was vindicated.  However, I am still not entirely convinced that a crayon stuck to a ketchup bottle would be art.  
    
While Rúmil did the washing up, Ardlor and I sat on the sofa and chatted alternately about art and what sort of hats people wore during the different eras of the First Age.  During the conversation I got the distinct feeling (from his remarkably casual posture, probably) that he actually lives here and that he and Rúmil are perhaps more than just friends.  But I didn't ask.  Then I noticed the small, framed photograph on the end table next to me, of Rúmil and someone in a very friendly embrace.  After a moment I realised that the someone was actually Ardlor with blonde hair.  I no longer felt the need to ask.  
   
He did, though, inquire as to my state of romantic involvement.  If figured he'd probably understand the situation with Erestor, so I told him the whole horrid story.  He looked sympathetic and said that Erestor must be a bit thick to have let a "little hottie" like me go.  Rúmil, who had finished the washing up and was now standing behind the sofa and carrying one of his cats (he has three), agreed.  I told them about the blue contact lenses and said that I wasn't entirely sorry to be rid of him.  Ardlor understood; he said that Aredhel in the play is an old-school goth who sometimes wears red contacts, and it's rather off-putting.  
    
Then Rúmil put the tape on and switched off the lights, and sat down on the sofa next to Ardlor.  It was all going wonderfully until, just after Fëanor was banished to Formenos, I noticed that Rúmil and Ardlor were paying far more attention to each other than to the opera.  I happened to glance over at them and Rúmil, who was more or less sitting on Ardlor's lap, said, "You don't mind, do you?"  I shook my head no, but really I did mind, because their giggling and smooching noises were interrupting the music!  I'm sorry I didn't bring Arwen after all.  Watching her sleep would have been preferable to watching them get it on.  Maybe her snoring would have drowned out their sounds, too.  
  
When the tape was over Rúmil showed me to the door.  Ardlor, who somehow lost his shirt during the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, stayed on the sofa.  Rúmil then said that he and Ardlor were going to no-cover night at their favourite dance club tomorrow and that I should join them.  Not wanting to make any solid commitment, I said I might.  And I'm still not sure if I'll go or not.  It may just be another opportunity to watch them molest each other.  They might be more restrained in a public setting, though.  I'll have to think about it. 


	4. How I Spent My Summer Vacation: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

 August 21st  
  
After four consecutive hours of pinball yesterday my eyes feel a bit funny.  My stomach also feels a bit funny, but that could be from the entire bag of marshmallows I accidentally ate while sitting on the sofa watching Elrohir and Aragorn play Magic cards.   
  
They are no longer speaking to each other again, since Elrohir killed Aragorn's Lord of Tresserhorn with a Lured Thicket Basilisk and went on to win the game the next turn with his Pygmy Allosaur.  Elrohir said it was Aragorn's own stupid fault for choosing to play with the forces of evil, but Aragorn responded with a typical remark of "Elves suck!"  I think he's still upset over the gooey ears fiasco.  It took him and Arwen a few hours and almost an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol to get that fixed.  
  
I had decided to stay home tonight and eat Cheetos and watch Law & Order reruns with grandma, but when I asked Aragorn if he wanted to join us he said no, he wanted to go try to climb the radio tower.  I told him that would be very dangerous, not to mention illegal.  Then he said that I was one of the most boring people he knew!  
  
Shocked, I asked grandma if she thought I was boring, and she said no, I was a very responsible, practical, and mature adult.  I was happy with this answer until she added, "Just like your grandfather."  
  
So it is true!  Grandpa is easily the most boring person I know, and I am just like him!  I must take drastic action to change this.  I think I will meet Rúmil at the club tonight after all.  My life needs some fun and/or excitement.  But I don't know what to wear.  From the way Rúmil described it, this seems like the place for tight black shirts and classy trousers.  And I don't have any tight black shirts with me.  Maybe I'll ask Arwen if she does.  
  
August 22nd  
  
The only black shirt Arwen had was sleeveless and vee-necked with little rhinestones by the shoulders.  I asked grandma what she had, and her only black shirts were far worse: all lacy and see-through.  Given the choice, I went with Arwen's rhinestones.  
  
I didn't get to the club until half twelve, but according to Rúmil, whom I met almost immediately at the door, that's when all the action starts anyhow.  And action it was.  The smoky laser-lit dancefloor was packed with people all dancing to house remixes of pop songs and house remixes of Second Age classics and house remixes of pretty much everything that can be remixed in a house-like way.  Ardlor of course was in the thick of it, gyrating indecently on a raised metal platform while waving his shirt over his head.  Rúmil didn't look the least bit embarrassed.  Perhaps he was pretending he had no idea who Ardlor was.  
  
I danced with Rúmil for a while, all the time feeling self-conscious in my rhinestone shirt.  I was wondering if he wasn't worried about us dancing together and being mistaken for a gay couple, but as I looked around at the other dancers I realised that there were no women in the club.  Well, none that weren't dancing with each other, in any case.  So of course we were being mistaken for a gay couple!  Rúmil and Ardlor had conspired to bring me to a gay club!  And I can't handle going to gay clubs; someone might see me!  Nobody suspects a thing about my unorthodox preferences, and it would come as a terrible shock to the entire family to find out now.  
  
I mean, not that I really have those sorts of preferences or anything.  It was just one time, with Erestor, and that's it.  Absolutely nothing further.  Well, except for what happened later after the club.  But that doesn't count, because I was only doing it to prove I'm not boring.  
  
Anyway, I felt a bit dizzy and had to go sit at the bar for a while.  Which was probably not the best idea, since a tall blond fellow in purple eyeliner and a sparkley gold halter top kept trying to buy me a Rev.  Eventually Rúmil came to ask me why I wasn't dancing, and I weakly managed to say that I felt a bit ill and should probably go home.  Rúmil nodded sympathetically, and he went to fetch Ardlor from his platform antics in order to see me out safely to grandpa's car, parked across the way in front of a Nandorin restaurant.  We were just about to leave when I rounded the corner to the exit and ran smack into Elrohir.  
  
Elrohir (who was wearing one of grandma's lacy see-through shirts) said, "I thought you were watching Law & Order tonight!"  I said, "You said you were going to Orophin's to play Dungeons and Dragons again!"  Ardlor said, "Oh wow, identical twins, this is just too perfect!"  Elrohir smiled coyly at him.  I scowled at the floor, disgusted, or perhaps shocked or embarrassed.  It was hard to tell which.  
  
I announced that I was leaving, while at the same time trying to make sure Elrohir understood that it was in no way my idea to come to a gay club, and that indeed I didn't even know it was a gay club when I agreed to come.  But Elrohir wasn't paying attention, and just whined that he needed me to give him a lift home, since he'd taken the bus and was afraid to take the bus back so late at night (the bus being full of raging loonies and other undesirables sitting on vandalised vinyl seats beneath glowing toothpaste ads).  Rúmil said that he too was ready to leave, and Ardlor suggested we should all go back to their place for flavoured instant coffee and sugar-free health biscuits.  I was clever enough to see what he was up to, but Elrohir, being none too bright, was caught in his nefarious plan.  
  
I politely declined for the both of us and pulled Elrohir by his (that is, grandma's) shirt all the way out to the car.  Elrohir pouted, then sulked, then whined, complained, and eventually harassed until I was forced to stop the car.  I just can't drive properly when he's snapping my arm with the elastic from the PineFresh tree.  I slowly explained to Elrohir what it was that Ardlor had in mind, and he said, "Well, obviously!".  Then I said that I would have no part in it, having no interest whatsoever in those sorts of shameful degenerate activities, and he told me I was the most boring person he knew.    
  
Twice in one day!!!  
  
I don't even want to talk about what happened next, except to say that it was surely the worst thing that anyone has at all done at any point in history, ever.  True, Fëanor killed a bunch of people at Alqualondë and got his group of Noldor collectively exiled from Valinor, but at least he didn't have anything going on the side with Fingolfin and some strange actor they met at a gay disco.  Not that we know of, anyhow.  Also, I think Rúmil captured the whole shebang on Mini DV to treasure for years to come.  He said he was just checking the camera and battery to make sure they were ready to tape Haldir's lacrosse tournament on Saturday, but the more I think about it, the more I'm sure he didn't really need to check for so long, nor so thoroughly.  
  
I am without a doubt going to sit in Mandos for a very very very long time.  The fact that Elrohir will surely be there with me may or may not be a comfort; I'm in no state of mind to try and decide right now.  
  
Though maybe Fëanor will be there and I can ask him about Fingolfin.  
  
August 23rd  
  
Another crappy round-robin email from Glorfindel came today.  It arrived right in the middle of a potentially excellent pinball game, and my IM interrupted with a popup and made me lose the ball.  Stupid sodding Glorfindel.  
  
\-----  
To: "Aragorn" <strider@ardamail.com>,"Arwen" <evenstarchick@starmail.net>,"Celeborn" <celeborn@cgpolitik.lor>,"Círdan" <cirdan@seaway.ghu.edu>,"Elladan" <elladan@rivendellonline.gov>,"Elrond" <elrond@rivendellonline.gov>,"Erestor" <erestor@rivendellonline.gov>,"Foxilady" <naughtycheeky@ardamail.com>,"Gandalf" <gandalfgrey@istari.org>,"Lindir" <ldr5050@eriador.com>,"The Best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>,"Thranduil" <thranduil@royals.mk>  
From:  "LL" <glorafin@ardamail.com>  
Subject:  Further updates on vacation  
  
Aiya ilya...  
  
Know I promised to be back home by the 23rd, but  
that's not going to happen now.  Still in Minas  
Tirith, still having a blast.  Bought some new  
shoes yesterday, two-tone brown leather, very chic,  
and a purple shirt.  
  
Nearly got run down by a wedding convoy on my way  
from the hotel to the internet cafe today.  
Adventure abounds here.  About fifty people hanging  
out the windows of taxis speeding down the main  
thoroughfare, and an apple lorry with a band playing  
in the back.  Singer kept tossing apples at people-  
fun stuff.  If I ever get married, I want an apple  
lorry driving about with a band in the back.  
  
On that note, I had Ara wearing nice adult clothes  
and no plastic jewellery the other day, so hope there.  
  
And will someone please tell Gildor to stop sending  
crummy forwards and chain letters?  Not had the  
chance to write him a proper reprimand lately- seems  
he's taking my silence as a go-ahead for all his crap.  
  
Will keep you all updated on my EDA and such, but  
don't expect any time soon.  Might stay a few days  
extra in Rohan on the drive through.  Hear they have  
cheap drinks and lots of them...  
  
Nam,  
LL  
\----  
  
I am in shock.  He is actually thinking of getting married to Aralindë?!  And he calls this hope?!  As for adult clothes, I can't imagine what that means.  I sincerely hope it doesn't mean "adult" clothes...  Not that Aralindë would know any better.  She wouldn't recognise good fashion sense even if it came in the post duct-taped to the back of an L.L. Bean catalogue.  
  
I spent the rest of the day in bed being antisocial, eating ice cream and watching wrestling on channel 38.  I was sort of hoping Elrohir would come and join me so I could assure him that what happened the other night was purely accidental, but he was too busy bothering grandma and generally being in the way of things.  Aragorn tried to join me, but he kept scratching himself in unmentionable places and farting on the duvet, so I had to throw him out.  
  
August 24th  
  
Grandma is no longer speaking to Elrohir.  Last night he apparently lost all sense completely and asked her if she wouldn't mind cutting off her hair so that he could make a wig for his project of becoming a Vanya.  I didn't witness the scene, but according to Arwen grandma went a bit psycho and started creeching that she'd had her hair just as it is since her childhood in Tirion and no way was she ever going to cut it for anyone.  Elrohir made things considerably worse by saying that maybe after 7185 years it was time for a change and that she'd probably look good with a brush cut, and the hair would of course always grow back, wouldn't it?  The rage took over and grandma hurled a grapefruit at him.  He now has a good-sized bruise on his left cheek.  I wish I'd seen all that.  
  
So now that Elrohir has incurred the wrath of both grandparents, we figure it's time to move on.  Aragorn's down improving the van again, this time as per my instructions.  I gave him a neatly typed list to follow, with the tasks ordered so as to maximise time efficiently.  I don't actually expect that he'll follow it, but I do hope he'll at least remember to pick up the old used Kleenexes from the floor.  
  
August 25th  
  
We are now stopped at a campground in Fangorn National Park.  By "we" I mean myself, Elrohir, Aragorn and Gildor.  Gildor and his group of travelling yahoos happened to be camping two sites over.  I can see their Steam Queen Vacuum van from my place beside the rusty fire box.  Gildor has elected to join Elrohir and Aragorn in playing cards, as he has had no company but his fellow vacuum cleaner salespeople for the past month.  The fellow salespeople, it seems, stole a paddleboat from the camp warden and are whooping it up heading down the Limlight in search of adventure.  I never suspected the secret lives of travelling vacuum cleaner salespeople could be so seamy and crime-ridden.  
  
In any case, at least we managed to secure a campsite with power so that I can not only save the battery on my laptop but also plug in the trouble light and be able to see the keyboard in the dark.  That is I could plug in the trouble light if the outlet weren't occupied by an old microwave stolen from grandpa and grandma's basement.  Elrohir's microwaving nachos for the card players.  He doesn't seem to quite get the concept of camping being rustic.  
  
August 26th  
  
We're still at the Fangorn camp site.  I'm getting a bit worried, since I just realised that uni starts up in nine days and I am by no stretch of the imagination ready to face going back to Rivendell to catch the plane to the Grey Havens.  I'm also getting worried about Gildor.  He stayed with us in our van last night, since his vacuum people haven't come back yet and they have the keys to his own van.  Actually, it was more like he stayed with Elrohir in our van last night.  I quickly tired of their inappropriate antics and took my blanket to sleep outside.  I found Aragorn in a pile of leaves under the picnic table this morning, so I can only assume he did the same.  
  
I tried to avoid them all day, so I stole Aragorn's camera and wandered around taking pictures of the forest.  While doing so, I saw a pale green slug that was about seven inches long.  I also saw what I though was an Ent, but it turned out to just be a tree with a giant face carved into it.  I took a photo.  
  
August 27th  
  
We have left Fangorn National Park and are now heading south-west toward the Gap of Rohan.  Aragorn very sensibly suggested staying in a motel tonight instead of the van, and I am with him on that 100%.  He has been charged with motel-spotting duty.  Since I have no email and have lost my pinball skills, I am forced to watch the scenery as we drive.  And there is nothing even interesting to watch.  Rohan is full of naught but used car lots.  The bad suit industry must be thriving here.  
  
LATER:  We have stopped at the Kozy Korner motel north of Helm's Deep.  The sign out front claims 15% discount for Elves, and there are waterslides and satellite telly, so Gildor is going to investigate while the rest of us wait in the van.  There is a plastic grocery bag stuck to his bum.  He sat on a wad of Elrohir's gum two hours ago, and squished it into the sofa cushion, then put a bag over the gum on the cushion and sat back down.  But the bag stuck to the gum already on his trousers.  Of course nobody told him when he got out of the van, and he didn't seem to notice on his own.  Oh well.  
  
August 28th  
  
We are safely situated in the motel room.  Or at least I am safely situated. Aragorn has wandered off to find beer, and Elrohir and Gildor simply disappeared about an hour ago while I was in the bathroom.  I tried watching television for a while, but nothing good was on.  So I checked my email, and found this new message from Legolas:  
  
\-----  
From: "*Legolas*" <legolas3000@royals.mk>  
Subject: (none)  
  
Hi Elladan!  You'll never guess what happened today!  
\-----  
  
And that was it.  I am unsure if he accidentally hit the send key prematurely, or if he's just a moron and expects me to reply with a guess.  I also had this email from Elrohir:  
  
\-----  
From: "The Best" <hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>  
Subject:  look  
  
im in the lobbiy  
  
ELZ  
\-----  
  
Sure enough, when I went down to the lobby (really, more like a corner of the motel office with two vinyl chairs and a particle board table), there were Elrohir and Gildor with dumb grins on their faces, sitting at Gildor's computer.  Apparently they think themselves terribly clever to send me an email from within the same building.  Idiots.  
  
Feeling curious, and since I was standing right next to him, I asked the motel manager why he offers a 15% Elf discount.  He said he just prefers Elves as guests, as they are overall less likely to steal the towels and destroy things randomly.  I was about to agree with his logic when out of the corner of my eye I saw Gildor take out his pen-knife as if to carve his name into the particle board table.  
  
Then I asked if the discount worked to attract customers, and he said yes, there'd been a record number of five Elves check in this week alone, those five being myself, Elrohir, Gildor, and "a classy-looking blonde fellow and his foul-mouthed daughter."  I narrowed my eyes at the memory of a Winnebago at the far end of the car park last night.  Said classy-looking blonde fellow is staying in room 12.  I might have to investigate later.  
  
August 29th  
  
I am starting to panic.  University starts up again in mere days, and I am stuck at a crappy motel in Rohan with three yahoos who haven't the slightest concern for schedules.  I emailed Círdan for help on the situation, but have so far received no reply.  
  
To try to get my mind off the school troubles, I went to the pool with Elrohir (Gildor stayed in the room and moped, having yesterday cracked a rib after slipping while running on the pool tiles in direct defiance of the lifeguard's safety suggestions).  Really, all I wanted to do was sit in the hot tub, but Elrohir insisted on playing waterslide tag (also in direct defiance of the lifeguard's safety suggestions).  We were kicked out of the pool area within fifteen minutes.  Elrohir looked strangely calm as the lifeguard told us to leave.  Usually he fusses over stuff like this, so I was a bit curious as to why he was taking it so well.  He smugly told me he'd peed while going down the waterslide that last time.  
  
We tried to get back to the room without going outside, since we were wearing naught but soggy swim shorts and small towels, but must've taken a wrong turn somewhere because we ended up in an uncarpeted concrete corridor that didn't look as if it were intended to be used by motel guests.  We tried to go back the way we came, but found the door had locked behind us.  My choice would have been to bang on the door until somebody opened it, but Elrohir wanted to continue down the corridor in case it led us to fun and adventure.  I tried to point out that we were in no way dressed for adventure (fun, maybe, if said fun were of the swimming variety), but he didn't care.  So we ended up going along the corridor, passing three locked doors before we came to one that opened.  
  
Then we stepped right into the middle of the Rohan National Dental Association annual director's meeting.  Their banner was hanging above the projector screen at the far end of the room.  The projector screen was being used by a large balding man giving a PowerPoint presentation.  He stopped dead when he saw us, and the rest of the room turned to look too.  Women stared in shock.  Men muttered unkind things about Elves.  Elrohir waved and cheerfully said, "Hi!"  Mortified, I covered my face with my towel and prayed nobody would recognise me.  Then I remembered that I look exactly like Elrohir, so my actions were useless.  
  
When we finally got back to the room, after wandering through the restaurant and then having to go outside anyhow, Gildor was lying on one of the beds in his underpants and watching extreme sports on satellite.  Aragorn was nowhere around.  I can only presume he was disturbed by Gildor's tighty-whities and disappeared to check out the VLTs in the motel pub.  I would understand that completely, as I too am disturbed by said underpants.  Especially now that Elrohir keeps playing with the elastic waistband.  
  
Nobody never plays with my elastic waistband.  
  
Obviously, I am going to have to go somewhere to sulk.  I wonder if it is Glorfindel in room 12?  
  
August 30th  
  
Elrohir, Aralindë and I have been playing Cheat for the past hour and a half.  I keep winning, possibly because Elrohir and Aralindë are paying more attention to trying to tickle each other than to the actual game.  I predict that tomorrow, out of jealousy, Glorfindel is going to give Elrohir a swift kick in the arse.  Not today, though, as it is a Vanyarin religious holiday.  
  
According to his religion, today is the day of somethingorother to do with judgement, and Glorfindel is not allowed to drink alcohol, have sex (and that's pretty much his entire existence right there), wear colourful clothing, plait his hair, eat cooked food, speak loudly, move quickly, perform acts of unkindness toward others, sing, dance, or have fun in any way whatsoever.  Pretty much all he can do is sit outside on a mat and look westward while thinking about the Valar and waiting for the day to be over.  
  
Gildor, of course, is taking full advantage of the situation.  He's outside with Glorfindel, who is indeed sitting on a mat facing westward and wearing all white clothes.  Or at least clothes that are supposed to be white- they're a bit greyish-brown now, since Gildor keeps tossing handfuls of dirt at him.  If I hadn't gone out there and witnessed it myself, I'd in no way believe the situation to be possible.  But Glorfindel has been putting up with Gildor's idiocy, calmly and quietly saying things like, "It would please me greatly it if you would refrain from dumping lemonade over my head," and "I do not appreciate your attempts to put raisins up my nose.  Please stop."  
  
Through the window, I can now see Gildor making an admirable effort at trying to pull the mat out from under Glorfindel.  Glorfindel is responding by passively eating bean sprouts from a bowl.  Gildor just upset the sprout bowl.  Glorfindel is picking them out of the grass.  Gildor is stepping on Glorfindel's hand.  Glorfindel is using his other hand to pick up the sprouts.  
  
It must really suck to be religious.  
  
August 31st  
  
Gildor made a point of waking up at 6-30 this morning to get in a good day's worth of tormenting Glorfindel.  He was out of our room by 7 sharp, and back ten minutes later, staggering a bit and holding his nose to keep too much blood from escaping.  Apparently it slipped his mind that one-day religious holidays last, shockingly, only one day.  
  
I asked Glorfindel if he was overly bothered by Gildor yesterday, and he said not really; the point of his Vanyarin holiday is to have one's devotion tested.  The deal is that Manwë judges your life over the past year, and if you've acted contrary to the Valar's decree, you will be put to trial on this one day.  Glorfindel figures that Gildor was sent by Manwë to try his faith; if he would have given in and punched Gildor when it was deserved, he would have failed the trial and forfeited Manwë's blessing until the next year when he could be tried again for all cumulative sins.  
  
It all sounded very complicated and boring to me.  Then Glorfindel admitted that he'd never before been tested so rigorously.  Once back in the second age he was bombarded by squirrels throwing chestnuts, and once around the time mum left he was bitten by a marmot that refused to let go until dad sprayed it with the hose, but that's it.  He attributes the torment of Gildor to his unorthodox relationship with Aralindë.  
  
I asked him if she was worth having to endure Gildor dropping click beetles down his shirt, and he said, "Yes."  Somehow, I can't see it.  I sure wouldn't endure Gildor and beetles for a whole day just to be with Aralindë.  I might endure static electricity for her, but that's about it.  And not very much static electricity either.  Only the sort that makes my trousers stick to my legs for a bit, but then goes away once I shake it out.  I can't really see her being worth much more aggravation than that.  
  
September 1st  
  
I realised this morning that none of us has actually seen Aragorn since the 28th.  Gildor thought he saw him yesterday wandering aimlessly about the car park, but it turned out he'd only seen a large shaggy brown dog wearing a bandana.  Curious, I went to have a walk around and see if he hadn't been accidentally killed in a brawl over the VLTs and had his body dumped into one of the wheelie bins out behind the kitchen.  No sign of him (either dead or alive) there, but on my way back to the room I also realised that none of us has seen the van since the 28th either.  
  
Panicking, I ran all the way back to the room.  I asked Elrohir if he'd seen the van anywhere, and he got a funny look on his face and said no, last he saw was Aragorn driving off to find beer.  I panicked further and had a look under the beds and in all the drawers, but Aragorn's things were all gone.  So we have been abandoned here!  Or, more likely, I have been abandoned!  Elrohir and Gildor don't seem to give a toss either way.  In fact, they think it's "cool".  
  
Not knowing what else to do, I started a game of pinball while waiting for my internet to connect so that I could check my email.  I got a new high score, too- 5.436.000- so maybe stress is the key to good pinball playing.  Then once the internet was connected, I found an email reply from Círdan.  
  
\-----  
From: "Círdan" <cirdan@seaway.ghu.edu>  
Subject: Re: Schoolyear startup  
  
Dear Elladan,  
I wouldn't worry at all if I were you.  You've  
already registered for all of your classes (if  
I am correct you've chosen phys. ed. and  
computer science as electives?), so the only  
thing left to do is show up.  There have been  
a few changes to the program since last year,  
but nothing that won't be explained on your  
first day back, and the changes have no effect  
on your registration.  
  
So no worries for now, and we'll see you on  
Wednesday!  
  
Best wishes,  
Círdan  
\-----  
  
Wednesday!  University starts up in three days!  And here I am, abandoned in a cheap motel in Rohan with two idiots and no car!  And even if I did have a car, there's no way I could get to the Grey Havens or even back to Rivendell in time for school!  I think I need to go confer with Glorfindel.  His cynical surliness always helps to put things into perspective.  
  
LATER:  I had a conference with Aralindë.  She was carrying a plate of brownies when she answered the door.  There was no store-bought packaging to be seen, so I must assume that Glorfindel made them.  She said, "Yah, what do you want?"  
  
I said, "Is Glorfindel here?" which, in retrospect, was a really stupid question, since if Aralindë was there wearing a flowery blue bikini, where else would he be?  
  
She nodded and gestured to the bed where Glorfindel lay sleeping, wearing swim shorts and clutching his pink blankie.  She said that she was waiting for him to wake up from his nap so they could go to the waterslides, but unfortunately that might be a while since they were up very late last night in the Winnebago's kitchenette trying to figure out how to make vegan brownies, and Glorfindel (being old) doesn't take late nights very well.  
  
Then she went on to talk about a package of hair clips she bought from a drugstore in Edoras that are, in her opinion, completely substandard.  Half are already broken, so she's thinking of writing a complaint email to the company accusing them of knowingly selling a shoddy product at an outrageous price.  I had to sit graciously and listen to her talk about the hairclips, smudgy eyeliner pencils, which brand of lipstick tastes best, shampoo that doesn't lather, and whether or not Glorfindel looks good in red.  
  
Afterward, when she had to stop and breathe, I told her all about my troubles.  Her suggestion was that I just buy my own car and drive myself.  I was about to explain why this plan could never work, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised there was no other choice.  Actually, there was another choice, but that was driving back home with her and Glorfindel in the Winnebago.  And honestly, I'd rather walk.  
  
I went back to the room and checked my bank balance online.  As far as my calculations go, I have just enough money to buy a 40-year-old Chevette.  Probably a brown one with one blue door, covered in Bondo.  I will have to wear a disguise while driving.  Or else I'll have to see how much money Elrohir has, and maybe together we can afford something one step up.  
  
September 2nd  
  
Elrohir and I are now the proud owners of a 2981 Mercury Topaz.  As per my imagination, it is beige, though the front passenger side door is blue.  The rear passenger side door doesn't open.  It is just for show, apparently.  Elrohir has named the car "Ol' Grindey", after the peculiar noise it makes when started.  He's quite taken with it, and has already stuck a sticker that says "GLAM" in the rear window, and a plastic dog with a bobbing head on the dash.  There is talk of purchasing a glittery license plate frame and zebra-stripe seat covers.  I have to pretend not to hear him whenever he says such things.  
  
Now I figure that if we leave the motel immediately and drive all day and night at twice the speed limit, not stopping for food or drinks or anything except petrol, we might just make it to the Grey Havens by Thursday.  From there Elrohir can catch a plane and be home in time for his first day back at the U of R on the 7th.  Dad will be furious with both of us, but I don't really care.  
  
Now Elrohir has gone to find a convenience store that sells pine-tree-shaped car air fresheners (the Topaz smells a bit like cat pee) while I pack up our things.  I don't know where Gildor's gone.  Not that it really matters, since we're leaving him behind.  He has a credit card; he can fend for himself.  When I went to say goodbye to Glorfindel, I told him to let Gildor know that we left.  Glorfindel nodded and said he would, but I'm not entirely sure that he'll remember.  He was standing at the Winnebago kitchenette sink washing grapes (Aralindë was helping by picking out the mushy ones) when I told him, and I'm fairly certain he was paying more attention to the grapes than to me.  
  
September 3rd  
  
I am not going back to the Grey Havens.  I am not going back to university.  In fact, I am not even going back to civilisation.  Ever.  I will spend the rest of my life roaming the wild, living in the Topaz, killing Orcs, stealing their wallets, and using the ill-gotten funds to pay for room and board at motels of ill repute that offer only three television channels, all of which show naught but Antiques Road Show and Murder She Wrote.  Elrohir is coming with me.  
  
We are heading north, back toward Rivendell, but we're not going home.  No, I don't think I'll ever be able to show my face around there ever again.  From this day on, I will be forced to live on the fringes of society.  
  
My picture is on the front of the Eregion Enquirer, with a yellow headline containing my name and the word "GAY" in letters so big you could read them from the moon.  In the photo, I am wearing Arwen's rhinestone shirt and standing outside the club in Lórien.  
  
Elrohir brought the paper back from the convenience store, along with a designer-scented PineFresh car tree, fourteen pieces of beef jerky, Bugs Bunny PEZ, and a pack of chocolate cigarettes.  As he handed me the paper, he tried to make things better by saying that he's in the photo too.  Which is true, insofar as the side of his head was indeed caught by the camera, though it is motion-blurred beyond recognition.  He offered me a consolation PEZ.  
  
I have already emailed Galdor to let him know he'll have to find a new roommate, as I am never going to see him again.  He can keep the dEUS CDs he borrowed, and the Suede poster I left on the wall.  I have no use for them now.  I haven't worked up the nerve to email Círdan yet, though I probably should as he's the type to worry that I'm dead in a ditch somewhere being eaten by insects when I don't show up for class tomorrow.  
  
Dad, who obviously doesn't believe me to be dead in a ditch, sent an email that started off calmly enough mentioning that Legolas has gone back to Mirkwood and Arwen has returned safely from volleyball camp, though soon it turned into a full reprimand over me being irresponsible and missing my plane.  I would reply if I thought he would at all understand my situation, but although he has himself been on the cover of the Enquirer several times as a result of his interesting relationship with Gil-galad, it's not at all the same, since everybody knew about that already.  My being photographed coming out of a gay dance club, however, will come as a complete shock to everyone, and I don't think I'll be able to deal with their onslaught of questions and concerns.  
  
So Elrohir will be my sole companion from this day forth.  I have forgiven him for all the stupid things he's ever done to me, in particular putting a nasturtium leaf in my cucumber sandwich at the end-of-school picnic when we were sixteen and making me vomit in front of the entire class.  I have also given in and confided to him the entire story of my encounter with Erestor.  He looked at me expressionlessly throughout the entire confession, nodding every once in a while.  He must be in shock.  I know he would never think me the sort of person to do anything like that.  
  
But in any case, he is still here with me and the Topaz on our flight from the past, which is reassuring.  And he has offered to wear an eye patch and make up false names for us to use when others are around so we're not recognised.  He really is a very nice and considerate person when he remembers to be.  Though I suspect that we should both be thoroughly sick of each other by the end of the month, and I will be desperate to have the company of anyone but him.  
  
Oh well.  
  
I don't suppose I have much of a choice now, do I? 


	5. Home for the Holidays: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

 October 24th   
  
I am ready to admit my defeat. I don't care what anybody says or thinks about the whole tabloid thing. I can't take any more of this rustic adventuring.   
  
For the past seven weeks, I have (as according to plan), been driving about on obscure mountain roads with Elrohir, killing Orcs, taking their wallets, and using the plunder to pay for second-rate motel rooms 10 miles downhill from failing ski resorts. However, I have had enough. The last motel we stayed in had no shower curtain or hot water. The one before that had odd stains on the carpet. The one before that had a sleazy pub that played the same Roxette tape in a continuous loop all night.   
  
Also, Elrohir has a bladder the size of a walnut. Stopping at an Esso every two hours for him to use the gents' toilet really isn't practical when we're supposed to be on this great mission to kill Orcs. He spends more time peeing than killing, and I spend more time waiting for him. It doesn't help that at every Esso stop he buys a two-litre bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. So we're ready to admit defeat and head home. I'm thoroughly ready to sleep in a bed that doesn't have springs sticking up in awkward spots, and contemplate the deeper meaning of my pillow. Or three pillows, maybe. That would be bliss.   
  
Elrohir is driving right now, and we are approaching the valley from the north-east.   
  
23-32: I change the tape in the stereo to This Mortal Coil.   
23-34: Elrohir changes the tape back to Kinky Boyz, and almost hits a pylon on the side of the road when he looks down for the eject button.   
23-50: I can see the purple glow of Rivendell.   
00-28: We stop at an Esso station. Elrohir takes a whiz.   
00-33: Elrohir gets me to unscrew the lid of his Diet Dr. Pepper bottle and hold it at a precise angle while he drinks.   
00-34: There is Diet Dr. Pepper all over the dash. It's not my fault; Elrohir can't drink fast enough.   
01-02: We just passed a sign that says "Welcome to Rivend ll". Someone seems to have stolen that last wooden E.   
01-16: Elrohir got stuck in the middle lane and missed our exit on the freeway.   
01-44: We are home.   
  
There seem to be far more cars than usual parked along the pavement and in the driveway. So either dad's having some sort of midlife crisis and couldn't settle for just one new car, or there's a party going on. Elrohir thinks party, since some of these license plates are from pretty far away. The one parked in front of us is from Gondor.   
  
Half the lights in the house seem to be on, and there is loud drunken singing coming from somewhere. Elrohir and I have obviously come at a bad time. I think the best course of action would just be to sneak into the house and go straight to bed, and try to figure things out in the morning.   
  
October 25th   
  
I am on the sofa. I tried to sneak into the house last night and go straight to bed, and it all worked fine until the actual getting into bed part. I had undressed and brushed me teeth and everything, but when I got into bed I discovered that it was occupied by a Hobbit.   
  
Actually I didn't realise it was a Hobbit right away.  I first assumed that it was a child belonging to someone at the party. But it still startled me, and I jumped up and yelled, and the Hobbit started yelling, and then Elrohir came charging down the corridor shouting that there was a Hobbit in his bed too, and it was all very loud and confusing. Then Elrohir's Hobbit came running in and started hitting Elrohir with a broom and yelling, "Run, Mr. Frodo!" Mr. Frodo didn't run, but he did fall out of my bed and scramble toward the corner of the room, knocking a lamp onto the floor and adding to the chaos.   
  
At this point, while Elrohir tried to grab the broom from his Hobbit, two others ran in, yelling and brandishing large hairbrushes. About five more minutes of confusion and terror and breaking things passed before one of them thought to turn on the lights. Then Elrohir's Hobbit said, "You're Elves!" to which Elrohir replied, "Of course we are, we live here! What did you think we were?!"   
  
All four Hobbits at the same time said, "Ringwraiths." They are obviously in need of some education if they can't tell the difference between Ringwraiths (who tend to wear large black draping things with hoods) and Elrohir and me (who were wearing naught but our underoos). Luckily for them, dad is holding some sort of council seminar thing today about Mordor and other business, so maybe they will learn a thing or two.   
  
Of course I am not invited to this council, so I had to learn about it accidentally. Dad came into the television room this morning looking for his shirt (Elrohir and I obviously missed a wild party), saw me (Elrohir was still asleep), and said, "Oh, you're back- I need to talk to you later." And that was that. A very warm and loving welcome home indeed.   
  
He came back half an hour ago for what I assumed was the talking-to, but all he did was ask me to have a look at a speech he's going to be giving at his council. Part of the speech included: "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." I tried to point out that "from whence" is redundant, as "whence" in fact means "from where", but he rolled his eyes and said, "I think I know what the word means, Elladan." Psh. He thinks he's so smart just because he's been studying lore for over six thousand years! Obviously prepositions aren't included in that general "lore" theme.   
  
Later: Glorfindel, leaving the council with dad, was overheard to have said, "'Back into the fiery chasm *whence* it came', Elrond, you stuck an extra 'from' in there." Dad was overheard to have said, "Shut up." Legolas, who is back here again for some reason, was overheard to have said, "That was the coolest speech ever!" One can guess who dad will favour for the rest of the week.   
  
October 26th   
  
The Hobbit, that is Frodo, that is Mr. Frodo Baggins, that is Ring Bearer Extraordinaire, is still staying in my bed. Elrohir's bed is occupied by a Mr. Samwise Gamgee. Elrohir asked dad if maybe the Hobbits could share my room and he and I could share his room, but dad proclaimed that to be completely out of the question; he wouldn't treat the Hobbits with such poor hospitality as to make them share a bed. They looked a bit disappointed.   
  
So Elrohir's off scouting the neighbourhood for a flat we might live in for the next little while, as neither of us is too keen on the sofa in the television room. I'm staying at home ready to claim a bedroom in case one of the five thousand guests leaves. But in doing so (patrolling the corridors looking for any suspicious packing activity), I met a nice young Man from Gondor; he owns the Sunfire parked in front of my and Elrohir's Topaz. His name is Boromir. He swears a lot, but is generally tolerable. He doesn't seem to like Aragorn much, but I can live with that. I'm none too fond of Aragorn myself after he so callously abandoned me at that motel in Rohan.   
  
I also met up with Galdor, but he ignored me completely. I think he's still upset over my not going back to uni, resulting in his not being able to afford both the rent and his tuition and having to drop out. Some people get upset over the most trivial things.   
  
October 27th   
  
I spent the day with Boromir, showing him around the house and yard and avoiding Legolas, who I'm sure has at least fifty hours worth of stories to tell me from the summer. Boromir and I made sandwiches and sat on the roof for a while, watching the Dwarves down on the patio having a shin-kicking contest. Apparently shin-kicking is a very popular sport among the Dwarves. They go one on one and the first to concede due to pain loses.   
  
Nobody has made any mention of the Enquirer cover. My guess is that the story came as too much of a shock and they've all repressed the memory. Which is good: saves me having to explain things.   
  
October 28th   
  
This morning dad announced that we (by "we" he meant me, Elrohir, Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, and all the entourage that came with the abovementioned plus others) ought to go out patrolling the countryside and trying to gather information on Sauron and the Ring. "We" were about to grudgingly go, but Glorfindel suggested that maybe a more effective course of action, given the horrendous petrol prices these days, might be to go to the library, read newspapers, watch pirated satellite telly from Mordor, and surf the internet for information. Dad thought about this for a moment, and then agreed. He must've known I was planning on charging the petrol to his Visa.   
  
Everyone sounded very enthusiastic, and then they all immediately went off to do their own things. Glorfindel said he was going to go look up something in a Magazine he remembered seeing last week, but half an hour later I saw him wandering around outside playing that lame worm game on his mobile. Elrohir said he was going to do a search for "One Ring" on Google, but got distracted and started looking up available flats in the online classifieds. Then he said he had to go to the biff, and he's been in there for nearly forty minutes now. So no luck anywhere.   
  
I am far to busy trying to remove a sliver from my toe to do any research right now, but as soon as the sliver is removed I'm sure I'll get right to it.   
  
October 29th   
  
Glorfindel took his Lexus in to the shop today, on account of how it's neither sounding nor running very well at all. He came back looking rather pale. I asked him what's wrong, and he said that things haven't been right ever since he drove recklessly across the old Bruinen ford (missed the bridge by 200 meters) with Frodo Baggins in the back seat, trying to outrun the Nazgûl. The car needs new tyres, shocks, and transmission, plus brakework and some paint along the bottom. He's considering sending the bill to Aragorn, as it was Aragorn who rang for a lift after his van broke down in the Trollshaws.   
  
I asked Aragorn why he got Glorfindel to come to his aid instead of Arwen, who drives that big SUV, which is much better suited for fording rivers than a luxury sedan. But Aragorn just gave me an exasperated look and said, "Because that would just be wrong!"   
  
Now Glorfindel's taken dad's Mazda and gone with Elrohir to the Eastpoint Mall to drown his sorrows in rayon. As far as I can tell, Glorfindel wears only rayon. Also as far as I can tell, both he and Elrohir *should* be following dad's assignment and checking up on the Ring and/or Mordor info, as should everyone else. But apparently this Ring activity has taken second place. Even Boromir, who was really keen to start off, has gone to the cinema with Legolas, leaving me to study Mordor all on my own! And I will, just as soon as I beat Elrohir's new pinball score.   
  
October 30th   
  
From the look of the kitchen counter, dad decided to stop by Superstore after work today and pick up two hundred over-packaged bags of Balathin treats to hand out to obnoxious costumed children tomorrow night. I was hoping he'd get good candy of the brand-name chocolate variety, but alas I only found peanuts. He seems to have severely overestimated children's fondness for non-sugary treats.   
  
There were also three pumpkins: two reasonably-shaped ones, and then one other that was shaped rather like a pear, but with a rounded snout-like protrusion on one side. Elrohir immediately chose that one as his. He just finished carving it, and it has twelve eyes, seven mouths, and sequins.   
  
Arwen chose the more perfect of the two remaining, and carved it into a smiling happy face with a flower and two hearts on the back. I gave mine to Legolas, and he didn't know what to do since they don't celebrate Balathin in Mirkwood. But he somehow managed to carve out two very small eyes (which looked suspiciously as if they'd been poked in with a pencil) and a large nose that was accidentally connected to its off-centre mouth. The accidental connection was fixed with masking tape. Then the top of the pumpkin was sort of collapsing in on itself because Legolas decided to carve it some hair. All in all I'm sure a monkey could have done better, but dad proclaimed it to be a wonderful first effort, and put it out on the front step for everyone to see. Surely he must know that the masking tape is a fire hazard?   
  
I stole one of the packs of peanuts while he wasn't looking, and the back said "May contain traces of peanuts or other nuts." I should hope so!   
  
October 31st (Balathin)   
  
Dad finally came to have his talk with me, the one he wanted to have six days ago. I pretended to pay attention while he voiced his disapproval for my behaviour since the beginning of August. At one point I asked why he wasn't lecturing Elrohir as well, and he told me I was missing the point of his talking-to. I said no, I understood the point completely: he wanted me to be more responsible. All of his talking-tos are about responsibility. He said, "Well... make sure you are!" I promised I would try.   
  
I wonder if being responsible means telling him Elrohir and I are going to a rave tonight and won't be home to hand out peanuts to trick-or-treaters like he asked us to do?   
  
November 2nd   
  
Dad is furious, but at least the blame is not on me. He is, in fact, furious with Erestor and Glorfindel. Ha! It is all their fault we've been missing for two days. I think they should get a responsibility lecture.   
  
Erestor and Glorfindel came to the rave with us. If I'd have known this I might've stayed home, since things are still somewhat difficult between Erestor and me. But Erestor was driving us in his Tempo, and he was wearing a sailor costume. Glorfindel, sitting in the back seat, was looking quite piratey with a plastic budgie sewn to the shoulder of his shirt and an eye patch. He was also looking surly because Aralindë opted to go trick-or-treating with her school friends instead of coming to the party with us, but the mood suited his costume. Elrohir sat next to him in the back seat and called him "Surly G" all night. Elrohir himself was wearing some sort of shiny pink vinyl trousers, silver platform boots, a glittery blue feather boa, a silver lace shirt, and fishnet gloves. I have no idea what he was supposed to be, but he had a cheap blonde wig on top of it all. Next to him, I felt pleasantly plain and inconspicuous in my plastic vampire cape and fangs.   
  
I was forced to sit next to Erestor in the front for the whole drive up to this old barn north of town. He said nothing to me and I said nothing to him. We silently listened to the radio while Glorfindel in the back said things like, "You know, Elrohir, the Vanyar as a whole tend to wear more conservative clothing."   
  
The rave itself was uneventful, as Elrohir soon disappeared into a massive crowd of writhing maniacs with glowsticks and Glorfindel took off to casually stroll about and casually look for shady youths selling pipeweed. Erestor mainly stayed near the alcohol line and looked horribly out of place. I wandered around feeling out of place myself, but soon a girl with pink rabbit ears grabbed my arm and pulled me over to get a glow-in-the-dark design painted onto my hand. I think her name was Filleth, but I'm not entirely sure; it was hard to hear when the music was so loud it made my clothes vibrate.   
  
After a while Glorfindel came and sat next to me and got painted on. He looked substantially less piratey with PLUR written in glowing yellow letters across his cheek, but he was quite mellow by that point and didn't seem to care. Around three o'clock he fell asleep on a pile of Filleth's stuffed animals. I must've fallen asleep too, since I woke up some time later snuggled between Glorfindel and Elrohir, with Erestor's shoulder on my knees, Filleth's arm under my head, and three of her friends nearby. It was six a.m. and the security fellow was coming around to break up our cuddle puddle and tell us to go home.   
  
We managed to get less than a third of the way back to Rivendell before Erestor's car stalled and refused to start again. Luckily we were all so tired we didn't much care, so Glorfindel and I pushed the car to the side of the road and we fell asleep for a few hours. When I woke up Erestor had gotten out to look under the bonnet with a bewildered sort of expression on his face. Then he got back in, and tried to start it again with no luck. We sat being clueless for a while before Elrohir and Glorfindel started to make up a song that went something like:   
  
Elrohir: If I had a million dollars-   
Glorfindel: We wouldn't have to drive a Ford,   
Elrohir: And if I had a million dollars-   
Glorfindel: We'd drive a Lexus 'cause it costs more,   
Elrohir: And if I had a million dollars-   
Glorfindel: Maybe we could put a little tiny cell phone in there somewhere...   
  
At this point Erestor yelled at them to shut up and think of something helpful to do instead of just being jerks. He is terribly fond of his car and won't tolerate anyone mocking it. He went back out to look under the bonnet again and I'm fairly sure I saw him lovingly pat the radiator.   
  
It took us an hour to convince Erestor to leave the car, and another seven to walk back to town. We made it to the donut shop in the far north end, which was just opening for the morning, before Elrohir demanded we stop for a rest. He quickly fell asleep across the orange formica table and nearly knocked Glorfindel's coffee combo into my lap. The rest of us sat in a mindless daze watching the donuts get stale until Glorfindel suddenly got the bright idea to use the pay telephone to ring for a taxi.   
  
So we are back home now. I would like to go to bed and stay there for twelve hours, but Mr. Baggins is still here. So I will have to settle for occupying the tub and the inflatable bath pillow, and hope I don't accidentally drown in twelve inches of water.   
  
November 3rd   
  
Stayed in bed (that is, the hide-a-bed) all day. Elrohir went out around noon and came back with poorly-made peanut butter sandwiches an hour later, so that was good. He couldn't find the Playstation, so had to settle for playing Nintendo while I remembered I was too tired to do anything.   
  
Dad came round after supper to make sure we weren't dead or horribly traumatised or anything. He stayed and had a chat for about eleven seconds before going back to doing whatever it is he does when I'm not watching.   
  
Elrohir figures that's probably Legolas.   
  
November 4th   
  
Erestor had his car towed to the shop to get fixed up. Glorfindel's been having a go at him all evening, asking why he doesn't just buy a new car since the Tempo ends up at the mechanic's at least three times per year. But Erestor got all defensive and yelled that he was perfectly happy with his car, rust spots and cracked tail light and broken radio and all, and that the seats are very comfortable besides. More argument followed, until the two decided to go settle their dispute the old-fashioned way, by typing "Lexus" and "Ford" into Google and seeing which came up with more hits.   
  
Ford won 14,4 million to 1,9. Then Glorfindel sniffed and said that the numbers only meant his car was more exclusive. Erestor clicked on the Lexus homepage and pointed out that the ES 300 is the best-selling luxury sedan in Eriador, while nobody buys Ford Tempos any more. So really, the Tempo is more exclusive. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes and was silent for a moment before saying, "My car is nicer than yours, and cost eight times as much." Erestor left after that.   
  
Later, Glorfindel told me that he suspects Erestor to be a secret millionaire. Since Glorfindel does all the finances he knows how much everyone makes, and Erestor is second only to dad on the government payroll. I am shocked. I'd never have guessed this, since Erestor's car is almost as old as the Topaz, and he buys all his clothes from Zeller's. Also he has a regular old blue Visa card like mine, while Glorfindel has a platinum Visa. I suppose I've always thought that Glorfindel was paid more, since Glorfindel never misses an opportunity to let people in on the fact that he has adequate money. But apparently Glorfindel's flashiness is all just a façade.   
  
November 5th   
  
Now that both Glorfindel's and Erestor's cars are out of commission, and since they refuse to take public transit to work, Glorfindel has broken down and hired a car from Spiffy Auto Services. Unfortunately, the most exotic thing Spiffy had available was a Kia. So Glorfindel wears dark glasses and makes Erestor drive.   
  
November 6th   
  
Erestor's car is back from the shop. He waved the bill around for a while last night and made a point of showing Glorfindel three times. Glorfindel's car may cost eight times as much as Erestor's, but his repair bill will be more like fifteen. Glorfindel is not looking well at all.   
  
He looked even less well this morning when he suddenly remembered that today is the day he and Erestor are supposed to go to Rivendell High School's career fair to try and con youths into working for the government once they graduate. He begged dad to switch cars with him for today, as the prospect of showing up at Aralindë's school in either a rusty Ford Tempo or a Kia with "Spiffy!" painted on the side in ten-inch-high orange letters was enough to make him pale and shaky. But dad seemed to have little regard for Glorfindel's vanity, and insisted that he needed his own car today for special government parking purposes.   
  
I tried to assure Glorfindel that Aralindë would understand about his car being in the shop, but he kept making sad, worried noises. He tried to convince me that he's worried about the students mistakenly believing that the government pays so poorly its employees have to drive clapped-out old rust buckets, but I know he's secretly terrified he won't be able to impress the highschool girls.   
  
It didn't help that Erestor left the car illegally parked in front of the fire lane, and Rivendell High's Principal Lornir had to use the PA system to tell them to move it. All of Aralindë's friends now know that Erestor drives a Tempo, and that Glorfindel carpools with him. Erestor was snickering about it, so I'm suspicious that he did the illegal park on purpose.   
  
November 7th   
  
Glorfindel has his precious car back. He spent a good portion of the afternoon trying to figure out where to park it to optimise visibility while at the same time keeping it out of harm's way in the event someone should come careening down the driveway and lose control, smashing everything in sight. He ended up putting it between a maple bush (for visual effect) and Arwen's SUV (for protection). I should probably mention that Arwen has a tendency to hit, scrape, and ding things while backing up, but that would just cause him needless anxiety, so I won't.   
  
November 8th   
  
It snowed last night. It hasn't snowed in Rivendell since before I was born, but last night it snowed and the temperature made a sudden drop to below zero. I woke up this morning to Glorfindel screaming "My car!!!" So I went to peer outside, sure that Arwen had dented it while parking last night, but saw instead that Glorfindel's car, along with everything else, was covered in four inches of snow. Glorfindel was out with a broom, frantically trying to clear the windscreen. Erestor was at the front window, smirking.   
  
In the end they had to take the Tempo to work because the Lexus wouldn't start. I'm sure this caused some sort of falling-out, since Glorfindel came home in a taxi. Then there was a big row at the supper table with Glorfindel yelling that there hasn't been snow here since the Second Age, and how could dad let this happen? Dad shifted uncomfortably and, avoiding eye contact, said something about how since this whole thing with Sauron and the One Ring came up, he was thinking that maybe it would be a good idea not to use Vilya this year and simply let nature take its course.   
  
Glorfindel seems to be the only one opposed to this plan, so looks like the snow is staying. He grumbled for a good hour after supper and is now out on the driveway with a hair dryer trying to defrost his engine.   
  
November 9th   
  
More snow. The Hobbits are making a snow fort with Elrohir, Boromir and Aragorn are trying to make a snowboard jump, and all the Dwarves are happily digging for sand out back to sprinkle over the steps and walkways and improve the safety rating. Legolas is brushing the snow off of Arwen's SUV and starting it for her since she's dressed up to go shopping in a mini skirt and high heels and is too girly to do it herself. She promised to give him a bag of pretzels and all the wine gums he can eat at one sitting.   
  
Glorfindel's car still won't start. He was pleading with it earlier, but it doesn't seem to have listened. Erestor made a point of driving around in circles for a while to show off.   
  
November 11th   
  
3019 years ago today, Isildur cut the One Ring from the hand of Sauron. Unfortunately that's all he did, leaving us to fix up the rest of his mess all this time later, but still it's a public holiday today so I'm not complaining.   
  
But I will complain about the snow. It is still snowing, and it's getting a bit ridiculous, almost as if nature is making up for three millenia of snow-free winters all in one go. Boromir and Aragorn have given up their snowboard park and are back to being wary of each other. The Hobbits likewise have abandoned their tunnelling in favour of drinking cider by the fire and playing Monopoly. Only the Dwarves are still going strong at their sand mine.   
  
I wanted to go outside and have a look at the snow, but I couldn't find my shoes anywhere. So I sat and watched Elrohir play Super Mario 3 instead. It was almost the same: he was on World 6.   
  
November 13th   
  
On his way to work this morning, dad stopped suddenly to avoid hitting a weasel as it crossed the driveway. He lost control of the Mazda on the slippery road, fishtailed, and ended up stuck in a snow bank alongside the hedge. Since he's too proud to ask for help, it took him an hour to get out. Elrohir and I watched from the window. We would have gone out to offer our help, but Elrohir had left his Mega Man game on pause and we didn't want to risk going too far in case somebody turned it off.   
  
At supper, I noticed dad was wearing Vilya again. I think the snow is on its way out.   
  
November 14th   
  
Temperatures are back up to normal, and everything is all mucky outside. Arwen hired Legolas to walk down to the shop and get her some hairspray, but he didn't even make it out of the yard before getting stuck in the mud, losing one of his shoes, and falling over. Really, it was his own fault for wanting to ascertain that yes, the mud puddle did indeed come up to his knees. Now he's wearing Arwen's bathrobe (not dad's- something must be horribly wrong) and playing dominoes with Gandalf while he waits for his clothes to wash.   
  
Elrohir and Aragorn though went outside to exploit the puddle and have a mud fight. They seem to be having fun, but I know I'd look like some sort of mindless idiot if I went to join them. So I'm going to stay in and watch dad polish his spoon collection instead.   
  
November 16th   
  
Dad asked today after the progress of our One Ring research. I realised I'd completely forgotten, and in a panic told him I'd found lots so far. He asked to see. Hoping he wouldn't know any better, I did a Google search for "Sauron One Ring" and came up with 39.800 hits. I told him I'd compiled the list myself. He was quite impressed. Then he asked Elrohir.   
  
Elrohir said he hadn't really done any actual research, but had drawn a really cool picture. He showed dad and I a drawing of the Ring half-melted in the fires of Mount Doom while all around Orcs were falling into lava. Dad nodded approvingly, and took the drawing to stick up on the fridge. Elrohir's working on another one, this time with more Orcs, more lava, and a few flaming skeletons. Watching him draw isn't quite as much fun as watching him play Nintendo, so I did a few rounds of pinball on the computer. I think I might be getting better.   
  
November 18th   
  
I realised today that I've been wearing naught but various forms of pyjamas (sweats, shorts, tee-shirts, fleece jumpers) since the 2nd and have spent most of my waking hours since then watching Elrohir play old Nintendo games. This has to stop. Glorfindel has already started to call Elrohir "Eltendo" and humming the Mario music whenever he's around, and I shudder to think of what he secretly calls me, as I think I must be slightly more pathetic for only watching Elrohir play all day and never actually playing myself.   
  
So I got dressed in clothes I don't mind being seen in, and resolved to spend more time playing my own video games instead of just watching. I hope Elrohir doesn't mind, but it does get a bit tedious that he makes me sit out in the corridor whenever he's at a hard part in the game. He takes his Nintendo far too seriously.   
  
November 19th   
  
I was almost about to beat Elrohir's pinball high score today, but idiot Glorfindel (who has no respect for video games and the amount of concentration they require!) came in at a bad time and made me lose the ball. I almost kicked him.   
  
He was saying that the whole car situation has caused a rift in the space-time continuum and unravelled the laws of physics, causing irreconcilable differences to arise between him and Erestor. As a result, they can no longer be friends. And since Erestor has claimed dad as his new buddy, Glorfindel needs to find a supportive sidekick PDQ.   
  
I assured him I was far too busy on the computer to help team up against Erestor. I must admit the prospect did have a certain allure, but still the pinball intrusion was nigh unforgivable. I also advised him against asking Elrohir, since I could hear the Bowser music filtering out from the den, and Elrohir doesn't take video game interruptions very well. So Glorfindel is going to look up Lindir, who I know has been desperately trying to break into the clique for years and years.   
  
November 20th   
  
Some of the houseguests have finally started to leave. Unfortunately not many, but I hope that this small exodus will make the others realise that they probably have better things to do than hang about here all the time. Galdor has gone but Legolas stayed, Boromir and two other Men are still here, and all but one of the Dwarves have opted to stick around for a while longer. I think they might be trying to set up some political movement to oust the Elves from government.   
  
November 22nd   
  
Now that I'm living at home again, nobody ever sends me emails. I am bored with my pinball game, bored of solitaire, bored of freecell, bored of minesweeper, and bored of everything else. There is nothing to do. So I rearranged my desktop icons for a while, first putting them in alphabetical order, and then arranging them for ease of use according to which ones I click on most often. Then I looked through all the Windows desktop themes to find out which one is least crappy.   
  
After a while, overcome by extreme boredom, I sent am email to Legolas. Surely there must be more to life than this? Or has the computer failed me?   
  
November 23rd   
  
Legolas replied to the email. He must be just as bored as I am.   
  
\-----   
From: "*Legolas*" <legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: Re: Anything fun happening?   
  
Hi Elladan! I just got back from going to a movie   
about aliens with Boromir! It was a bit scary but   
had kewl special efects! Like this one part where   
all the aliens are in their space ship and are   
about to kill the good guys but at the last minute   
they don't and everything is OK and all the aliens   
die! I bet aliens really exist you know. They   
have big eyes. Boromir thinks he saw and alien   
once but he was on drugs so maybe he only saw a   
cactus with big eyes. There aren't any cactuses   
in Mirkwood but there are shrews and the shrews   
are pretty small and have skinny tails. Once my   
dad put his beer cooler on a shrew and squished it   
by accident. He also squished a toad once but that   
was when he was digging up the peony bush with a   
big shovel. Maybe we should play dominos tonight!   
I beat Gandalf at dominos three times already. I   
played with Boromir too but he tries to cheat by   
puttin gthe dominos in his pants and I noticed this!   
So he lost and then we played again and he tried to   
put the dominos in MY pants but I noticed this too   
(duh!!! Boromir is so stupid!!!) and he lost again!   
\-----   
  
I stopped reading at this point because the email just wasn't making any sense. I skimmed over the rest, but it seemed to be focusing predominantly on the topic of Boromir's pants.   
  
Luckily though Eltendo wandered over to ask why I wasn't watching him play any more (he had just beat Mega Man 3), and I was able to get him to decipher the curious babble. His analysis revealed that Legolas wants to know if we're interested in going for pizza tonight.   
  
November 24th   
  
Elrohir and I ended up going to Greasy Onor's Thick Pizza with Legolas last night. Having not left the house in three weeks, I was shocked to see that all of downtown is covered in cheap sparkley light-up Fiommereth decorations. In fact, Fiommereth seems to have exploded in the streets. Trees and stars and bells and lights and tinsel abound. The city decoration committee could at least have the decency to wait until December 1st!   
  
The pizza was greasy (big surprise) and Legolas and Elrohir's supper conversation left much to be desired. I think they were talking about television, since it sounded something like:   
  
Legolas: And did you see that other one that was on-   
Elrohir: Aw, dude, yeah! That kicked!   
Legolas: I know! Especially the part with that guy!   
Elrohir: Oh man, you mean when he did that thing with the-   
Legolas: Mm-hmm! That was *sooooo* cool!   
Elrohir: And what about that other time, in the car?   
Legolas: Yes!!! I saw that too!   
Elrohir: Straight up now tell me! That was sweet!   
  
I'm hesitant to admit this, but I think my brother just might be a moron.   
  
November 25th   
  
I asked dad if he noticed when all the crappy Fiommereth decorations came out downtown, and he said they were up on the 6th! Which is, in my books, far too early. I asked him if he couldn't pass a law forbidding all Fiommereth nonsense from starting before December 1st, but he said he didn't mind the decorations, and actually called them "festive"! So it is obviously his fault that the decorations come out earlier and earlier with each passing year to guilt trip us all into spending all our money and buying gifts for absolutely everyone in the world!   
  
Which reminds me, with only a month left until Fiommereth, I should start shopping. 


	6. Home for the Holidays: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel's seasonal song is a very dodgy Quendya rendering of 'O Come All Ye Faithful'.

November 26th  
  
To protest against the unseasonable proliferation of Fiommereth décor, I have decided not to leave the television room until December 1st.  Elrohir has promised to lend support by bringing me food and snacks.  He also offered to play Nintendo for my entertainment.  I told him it would make me happier if he started looking again for a flat for us, since living at home is quite unbearable compared to our previous independence.  
  
My bedroom is still occupied by Frodo Baggins, but even if it weren't I'd want to leave.  Dad's façade of hospitality is getting on my nerves.  He's wonderful and generous and kind to all the guests, and then makes me stay on the hide-a-bed with Elrohir for a month!  Which I really wouldn't mind, if only Elrohir would spend less time on the Nintendo late at night and more time sleeping.  
  
November 27th  
  
I have amended my vow of not-leaving to include provisions for going to the biff.  I am allowed to leave the den only to visit the toilet and to brush my teeth.  Elrohir insists on being my armed escort and chaperone.  I almost pointed out that my imprisonment is self-imposed, but he had already armed himself with an oblong sofa cushion and the Duck Hunt gun, so I let him have his fun.  
  
He spoke into the DVD remote all the way to the bathroom, saying "Khhhk, transfer command, this is block leader MG-886 escorting prisoner Elladan to lavatory unit 3-b, do you copy?"  Then he stepped six inches to the left and said, "Khhhk, roger block leader, this is transfer command, commence dialogue." "Khhhk, in position for security crossover- activate Code E switch to transfer setup and lockdown." "Khhhk, roger that, block leader.  Security transfer success- you're free to go."  
  
After much elaborate undoing of invisible locks, I was given permission to pee for no more than 20 seconds.  The return trip protocol was much the same, only Arwen stood and watched.  Elrohir ignored her well enough until she said, "You two are such idiots," at which time Elrohir yelled, "Security breach!" and attacked her with the cushion.  
  
Her screams of outrage brought Legolas valiantly running to her rescue.  Legolas started off earnestly throttling Elrohir for "being mean to girls", but within seconds the throttling turned into tickling and other generic roughhousing accompanied by squeals of laughter.  Arwen, disgusted, stormed away (probably to complain to dad).  I escorted myself back to the den with no further incident.  
  
November 28th  
  
I have further amended my vow to include provisions for showering.  Elrohir still insisted on being my chaperone, and kept peeking behind the shower curtain to make sure I wasn't about to off myself with Arwen's Lady Gillette.    
  
Much to my dismay, Legolas has also joined in the "game".  Mostly he just sits on the sofa watching Elrohir play Mario and taking up space and oxygen.  I might have to have him "promoted" to door guard duty later tonight.  Or send him for food.  Elrohir's idea of supper, that is Tater Tots and root beer, is somewhat inadequate.  
  
November 29th  
  
Elrohir is nowhere to be seen.  Even Legolas has disappeared.  I have seen neither of them since noon, when Elrohir excitedly burst in to announce that dad and Arwen and Aragorn were putting up the tree, and did I want to help?  
  
They are doing this deliberately to get me to renounce my vow!  But no hokey family traditions will get me to leave this room, no way!  They can decorate their dumb tree all by their dumb selves.  So I gave Elrohir a Look and said no, I was planning on staying in the den as I would have no part in their shamefully premature holiday preparations.  He slapped his forehead and said, "Oh, right, sorry!" and then took off again.  
  
I hope he comes back soon.  I found an old pack of the Balathin peanuts behind the telly, but it was sadly lacking in any real food value.  I am still hungry.  
  
November 30th  
  
Elrohir finally came back about midnight, carrying a jar of olives.  He held them up excitedly and said, "Look, your favourite food!"  I really wanted to be nice about it, because I know he means well, but at that point I couldn't hold back the frustration any longer.  I slightly less than calmly pointed out that I really hate olives.  Really.  I don't think he quite understands just how deep my hatred of olives goes.  They are, in fact his favourite food, not mine, not by a long shot.  
  
He said, "Ohhhhhh... yeah, I remember now!"  Then he sat down, turned on the Nintendo, and went ahead eating every single stupid olive in that jar!  And not quickly either.  No, he takes each olive one at a time, looks at it all over, and then sucks out the pimiento.  Then he tries to stick his tongue in the pimiento hole, though of course it never fits.  After that, he either tries to put the olive on his finger, or else bites off the closed end and whistles through it.  Alternately, he will "oooo" though it.  Often while looking at me.  Finally, he eats it, but only while taking very small bites and examining the olive after every bite.  Sometimes he will sing his olive song, which is pretty much "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" with the words changed to "Olive, olive, olive, olive..."  
  
After he'd gone through five olives in this manner, I couldn't take it any more and yelled, "Elrohir!"  He looked at me, frowning, and said, "Dude, what's your deal?"  I told him I was hungry.  He offered me an olive.  It was all I could do to keep myself from screaming and dumping the jar of olives over his stupid olive-filled head.  So I forced myself to be calm and lie down and just go to sleep in hope that tomorrow he'll remember that it's his job to feed me.  Only I couldn't sleep, because I'm sure he turned up the volume on the television so that all I could hear was the boing boing boing of Mario jumping.  And his singing to the olives got more elaborate with passing time.  
  
To compensate, I stole all the blankets, lay diagonally across the mattress, and pretended to be deeply asleep by the time he finished his olives and got into bed.  He shook me (rather violently) eight times before giving up and sleeping curled up by my shoulder like a pet.  Served him right.  
  
He was gone by the time I woke up this morning and I, not wanting to count on him for food, wisely stood in the den doorway and waited to flag down the first person I saw.  That happened to be Glorfindel.  I begged him to make me some real food: food that is hot and doesn't come straight out of a tin or a freezer bag.  He came back about an hour and a half later carrying two plates of stuff I've never seen before.  Some sort of mushy beany glop, what looked like meatballs but turned out to be eggplant balls, flat bread, orange-coloured fried potatoes and rice, and deep fried filo-pastryish wads drizzled in reddish sauce.  
  
Warily, I asked what it was, and he said "Vanyarin food- try it, it's good."  As if to convince me, he ate one of the pastries from his plate.  I tried a pastry, and nearly fainted when my tongue threatened to fuse itself to the roof of my mouth due to the sheer heat of the drizzly sauce.  I choked, forced myself to swallow, and immediately reached for my water bottle.  He said, "They're a bit spicy."  A bit!  Out of everything on that plate, the bread was the only thing that didn't have me breathing smoke.  And all the while, Glorfindel sat calmly eating his bean glop as if it were no more dangerous than chocolate pudding!  
  
By this time, though, I was so hungry I didn't care.  I ate everything, alternating bites with large mouthfuls of water.  I suppose it might even have been good, had my tongue not been completely annihilated and had I been able to taste any of it.  And it might have been a more enjoyably experience had Glorfindel not insisted that forks are a Noldorin invention that are generally shunned in Valmar.  At least they were when he lived there, way back in the day.  It was somewhat tricky holding the plate up to my chin and manoeuvring the bean glop toward my mouth with a piece of bread.  Though he at least brought napkins to clean up the mess afterward.  
  
Glorfindel, for all the years I can remember, has never once cooked supper for us.  Now I know why.  And I will keep this experience in mind for next time, when I will ask Erestor to bring me supper.  He at least is thankfully bland and would bring me something edible, like a hot dog and chips.  
  
December 1st  
  
I ceremoniously left the den this morning and stepped into the living room, only to see that Fiommereth has exploded all over everything.  The tree was in its traditional space in the corner, though all bunged up with noticeably more tinsel and lights than usual.  Dad seems to have opted for the Laurelin theme this year- gold foil from top to bottom.  The mantle was covered in holly and pine boughs wrapped with ribbon.  Fake spray snow adorned every window.  More candles than one could shake a stick at were situated about the room.  Overall, it looked like a picture from the sappy Fiommereth edition of Homemaker Magazine.  
  
So I see that my strike did nothing to hold back the tide of kitsch.  If anything, it actually encouraged them because I was out of the way and unable to physically stop Arwen from Blu-Tacking glittery stars to the walls!  In disappointment, I went back to the den.  At least nobody has decorated in there yet.  It will be my sanctuary until I'm ready to face the cheesiness of the season.  
  
December 2nd  
  
Today Arwen wrote all of her Fiommereth cards, right on schedule.  Every year, she takes the time to write a card to absolutely everyone she can think of, including mum, Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir, Aragorn, Legolas, Legolas' parents, Círdan, Galdor, Gildor, grandma, grandpa, Haldir, Rúmil, Orphin, Bilbo, Gandalf, Saruman (luckily she remembered he's evil this year before she mailed his), Radagast, Halbarad, everyone else whose name she can remember, and, this year, all the Hobbits, Dwarves, and Men currently staying with us.  
  
Now, this might seem like a kind and wonderfully sweet thing to do, but she's not doing it to be nice.  Nor is she doing it to spread Fiommereth cheer.  The only reason she writes all those cards is in hope that she'll get a card in return or, better yet, a gift.  On Wednesday, when all of her within-Rivendell cards will be delivered (she mails all of them even though it would surely be easier to give them out by hand), I know she will make a big show of dancing and singing her way to the fridge, where she'll magnet up her wish list.  Then, just as everyone is admiring the cards and thinking what a lovely and special girl Arwen is, they will see that she has her dear blessed little heart set on a Sugar Jones CD.  And lo, they will get it for her.  
  
Then I also know that her card should be arriving in Lórien just as grandma and grandpa are doing their shopping.  So Arwen will get a big parcel full of scented bath things and chocolates and jewellery, while Elrohir and I get Wal-Mart gift cards.  It never fails.  But of course nobody save Elrohir and I can see that this is her clever little ploy.  Feh!  
  
December 3rd  
  
I was complaining to Elrohir about Arwen's cards today, and he smugly told me he upstaged everyone by sending grandma and grandpa a super deluxe ultra glittery card that plays "Jingle Bells" when you open it, and he sent it Express Post so it'll arrive before Arwen's.  
  
That rat!  Now he's going to get the best present, Arwen's going to get something almost as nice, and I'm going to be stuck with the crummy Wal-Mart gift card!  This calls for drastic measures.  I'm going shopping.  
  
Later:  I've had grandma and grandpa's gifts professionally wrapped at the mall and sent by courier.  Ha!  That'll show Arwen and Elrohir.  Really, I don't know what comes over those two this time of year.  All they seem to care about is what sort of gifts they get and how many, completely disregarding the fact that the spirit of Fiommereth is all about giving and being with family and friends.  How greedy can you get!  
  
December 4th  
  
Arwen's cards arrived in the post today, right on schedule.  All through the halls, I could hear Elves saying what a thoughtful girl she is, Men singing the praises of her grace and beauty, Hobbits declaring their undying adoration, and Dwarves proclaiming her to be the one shining hope for all Elvenkind.  It makes me want to kick something.  
  
Sure enough, around supper time she came prancing into the kitchen, singing some frilly song about peace and love and joy joy joy! and magneted her wish list (printed in bubbly letters on pink paper and decorated with stickers of flowers and happy faces) to the fridge over top of Elrohir's drawings of Orcs falling into lava.  Within the hour I saw Glorfindel standing and looking at it thoughtfully, holding her stupid card in his hand.  
  
This is completely unfair, and is making the rest of us (namely me) look bad!  I ought to petition dad to make a law against solicitous Fiommereth card sendage.  
  
December 5th  
  
Aragorn and Arwen have broken up again.  He's upset over having received a card that says only, "Happy holidays and all the best in the New Year!  Love, Arwen"  She claims she "accidentally" must have sent his somewhat more personal card to Legolas.  This evolved into a huge row about commitment, trust, respect, and Aragorn's personal hygiene and smoking habits.  It ended with Aragorn storming off to get wasted, and Arwen pouting to Legolas that Aragorn is "such a meanie" sometimes.  He held her hand and said things that sounded supportive but really made no sense whatsoever upon analysis.  
  
Dad stared at them from across the room with thin lips and narrow eyes.  I suspect he might be jealous.  And nervous, since Arwen is younger and prettier than he is.  
  
December 6th  
  
Arwen and Legolas are officially in love.  They spent the entire day holding hands and giggling to each other and generally making everybody roll their eyes.  Aragorn is disgusted.  Elrohir thinks it's funny.  Erestor doesn't care.  Dad pretends he doesn't care, but really is devastated.  Boromir looks disappointed.  And Glorfindel is upset, since many years ago Arwen turned him down by saying that she's not interested in Elves, which is now obviously a lie.  As for me, I think they belong together.  All Arwen wants in a boyfriend is someone who will agree with everything she says, and since Legolas has the intellectual independence of a newt, I don't think that should be a problem.  
  
December 7th  
  
Elrohir got a job.  This is why I've not seen him around the house for the past few days, I guess.  Without warning, he up and decided that he ought to be employed, so he now works for the East Beleriand Trading Company (est. F.A. 109), generally referred to as "The Bel" by most shoppers.  He gets to wear a shirt and tie and classy engraved metal nametag, and stand at the door greeting customers and directing them to the various store departments.  So really, his duties consist of knowing where the underthings and toy departments are and telling people how to get there.  
  
Dad looked very proud indeed when Elrohir announced this, and said something about how nice it was for Elrohir to be taking initiative and being responsible and all that bosh.  He was looking at me while he said it.  I pretended I didn't notice.  The only reason dad thinks this is so great is because Elrohir's been a disappointment for so long that he's lowered everyone's expectations!  He could get hired as the chip chef at McDonald's and still dad would congratulate him.  If I were to get a job greeting people at the Bel, dad would look concerned and tell me I could do better.  I just know it!  
  
Maybe I should make a point of being stupid for the next few years so that when I do decide to apply myself, everyone will be amazed.  
  
December 8th  
  
I tried to do all my shopping today, but I was still too frustrated with everyone to be inspired to buy them nice gifts.  So I bought a Roxy Music piano book for Erestor and that was all.  I might come back and get him another piano book later.  Right now all he knows how to play is "Aladdin Sane" and it gets a bit tedious.  
  
When I got home, Glorfindel was on one about the porcelain Valar setup that Elrohir always monkeys with.  Elrohir claims he didn't touch it, but we all know nobody else ever rearranges the figurines so that they're all standing around adoring a walnut while Tulkas has his hand on Aulë's bum.  Glorfindel lectured again on how "Fiommerel" is a sacred religious holiday to honour the birth of Eonwë and that if Elrohir insisted on disrespecting his beliefs he was going to take his precious porcelain Valar (that he so kindly bought for us because our old cardboard nativity set was substandard, don't you forget) and set them up in a locked glass case away from unholy heathen hands.  
  
Elrohir promised to behave.  But as soon as Glorfindel left the room, I clearly saw him put Tulkas' hand back on Aulë's bum and replace the infant Eonwë with another walnut.  
  
December 9th  
  
Glorfindel has locked the porcelain Valar inside the glass teacup cabinet, displacing twelve valuable old teacups that once belonged to Turgon.  This has caused some tension between Glorfindel and dad, as dad clearly has greater respect for Turgon's old dishes than for the Valar.  Unfortunately the stress of the season seems to have gotten to Glorfindel and has made him go a bit psycho, and dad is afraid to say anything more than, "You know, those teacups are very old and valuable... are you sure they're safe on top of the stereo?"  
  
After an hour of watching them fuss over placement issues, I felt like my head was full of sand.  So I gladly left the house and went shopping.  I passed Elrohir at the door to the Bel, completely oblivious to the uproar he has caused at home.  He was handing out 5% discount coupons to everyone who entered the store.  I took one and used it to buy Glorfindel a locking glass case for his beloved porcelain Valar.  
  
December 10th  
  
Someone, I suspect dad, left the glass teacup cabinet open last night and Manwë has disappeared.  Glorfindel is distraught, sitting at the kitchen table alternately raging that he's going to give somebody some serious grief and sobbing that everybody's against him because he's the only person who still recognises the true meaning of the holiday beyond the commercial monstrosity it's become.  Dad sent Erestor in to try to calm him down, but he's still wary of Erestor since their car disagreement.  So Erestor called for Lindir.  Lindir could do nothing substantial.  So he was sent to wait outside Aralindë's school until dismissal and bring her back to deal with Glorfindel.  
  
Meanwhile, Elrohir stood in the living room with a dopey grin on his face, prompting Legolas to whisper to me that he thinks "Elrohir maybe took the little statue".  What a mind that boy has...  
  
At some later point Aralindë managed to convince Elrohir to put Manwë back on the shelf.  He then solemnly vowed never to rearrange the Valar again.  So he's now randomly turning dad's teacups upside-down and pretending a ghost did it.  
  
December 11th  
  
Legolas' dad rang today wondering what the [censored] Legolas is up to and when he's coming home.  Legolas and Arwen were sitting by the fire having a moment, and I didn't want to disturb them.  In fact, I didn't want to go near them.  So I handed the telephone over to Glorfindel, who is the only person Thranduil will talk to in a reasonably friendly-like way.  They chatted for five minutes or so until (I'm guessing) Thranduil realised it was long distance.  So Glorfindel said, "I'll ring you back, then," and he did.  They chatted for another half hour about everything in the world but Legolas, from the price of stamps to the least expensive brand of tinned lentils available from Safeways.    
  
In the last minute of conversation, Glorfindel said, "Probably at least until spring, I'd think.  I'll IM you tomorrow with details.  But it's no bother for now, really.  Don't worry about it."  Then he hung up and went into the living room to tell Legolas that he wasn't expected home until June.  
  
Great!  That's just great!  And here I was all along hoping he'd be gone by now!  But no, looks like I'm stuck putting up with him all winter.  Maybe at least Arwen will be a decent distraction.  When I last peeked in on them, she was teaching him how to make a small poinsettia cross-stitch.  It has occurred to me that Arwen might not want a boyfriend after all; what she really wants is a sister.  
  
December 12th  
  
I think Glorfindel has forgiven Elrohir for the mishandling of the Valar, because they seem to be very good friends now.  They're in the kitchen, standing at the blender and trying to invent a vegan substitute for egg nog.  I can see a carton of milk-inspired soy beverage on the counter beside a can of Coke and a bottle of rum, which seems to work its way into 99% of Glorfindel's drinks.  I just know this is going to turn into a disaster.  Therefore I am not going anywhere near the kitchen until they've had ample time to clean up.  Last time Elrohir was inspired to use the blender I was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time by dad and had to spend a good hour wiping cranberry puree from the cupboard doors.  
  
December 13th  
  
Elrohir has posted his list to the fridge door.  I can't read most of it, but "IGUANA" seems to be printed prominently at the top in green ink.  The item listed below that looks like it might say "iguana cage", but I'm not sure.  Four other illegible things are written below "iguana cage", then "nintendo games", then a bunch of other things that I don't even think are written in any known alphabet or language.  Seeing as it's the only thing I could both read and afford, I went out to the pawn shop and bought him Legend of Zelda, Mega Man 2, Ninja Gaiden, and Bubble Bobble.  I put the games in shiny holographic silver bag, which in itself should keep him amused for at least an hour.  
  
December 14th  
  
Only ten more shopping days left until Arfiommereth.  I should probably start making peace with all the people I've fought with this year (namely dad and Erestor), and also start being generally nicer.  
  
December 15th  
  
I had a talk with dad today.  I decided to give in and apologise for our disagreements, even though everything is clearly his fault and I wasn't even sure what I was apologising for anymore.  It went very well and he gave me a hug, saying we should make a better effort at communication in the future.  Then he said I should probably get around to putting my list up on the fridge, as he was planning on going shopping after work tomorrow.  
  
So I made the following list:  
External DVD burner for computer  
Ski hat and gloves  
Well-made socks  
flannel bedsheets  
Up-to-date dictionary  
Blank VHS tapes  
Wireless mouse  
Slippers (not animal-shaped!)  
Gift certificate for book shop  
  
I also included a supplementary list of suggestions for cheap crap I wouldn't mind getting from Elrohir, as he never seems to do his shopping any earlier than five minutes before the convenience stores close on the 24th:  
Gummi worms  
Lemon-scented PineFresh tree for the Topaz  
Deck of cards  
Hairbrush  
Film for camera  
Cheetos  
  
December 16th  
  
I wanted to make peace with Erestor today, but he didn't come home from work until after nine.  I am now worried that he's already done his shopping and my peace-making will be too late.  Bugger.  And he always buys really good presents, too.  He seems to have made peace with Glorfindel, though, because I saw them talking together, and it wasn't an argument over their cars.  
  
December 17th  
  
After too many weeks of guests, dad has finally decided that Frodo's three Hobbit friends will be accompanying Frodo to Mordor, along with a few others.  I pointed out that maybe it might be better if Elrohir and I went instead of Merry and Pippin, we being somewhat more experienced in this whole travelling-questing business.  He said that could be arranged if I thought it was best, and then said that the others travelling would be Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf, Gimli, and Legolas.  
  
On second thought, I think it might be more beneficial for Elrohir and I to stay home.  Dad needs us here, after all.  
  
So dad had a party to announce the formation of the Fellowship of the Ring.  We all sat around on the deck and ate barbequed hotdogs and drank egg nog.  Elrohir and Glorfindel, though, came up with their experimental corn nog to add to the festivities.  I didn't ask, but it appeared to be made out of creamed corn and Coke.  I'm sure Elrohir has the recipe written in his Nog Log.  He's been keeping track of all the various nogs he's had since the beginning of the month, as well as what he put in them.  
  
Everything was going well enough until Arwen came to sit next to Legolas, carrying a plate with three hot dogs on it.  Legolas' eyes widened and he said, "She's eating hot dogs like how many I eat hot dogs!"  Arwen (who obviously has better luck deciphering his babble than I do) scowled and said, "Are you insinuating that I eat too much?!" but Legolas could only point and say, "Three hot dogs!"  
  
Thoroughly insulted, Arwen stood up in a storm of dramatic sighs and said to dad, "He thinks I'm fat!"  Dad had his mouth too full of rice pudding to reply, but luckily Aragorn was skulking nearby and immediately jumped to her defence, saying "Three hot dogs is the exact right number for someone who is very thin but athletic!"  Arwen nodded.  
  
Then Aragorn put his hand around Arwen's shoulders protectively and led her away.  "Don't worry," he said, "these hot dogs are very small and you certainly need to eat at least three to keep your strength up."  He ended up eating seven hot dogs just to make her feel better.  I think they are back together again.  
  
December 18th  
  
I spent the entire day at the mall trying to find gifts for everyone, but only managed to buy a designer volleyball tee-shirt for Arwen.  Then I met up with Elrohir after his shift at work, desperately in need of some stress relief.  He was wearing a string of jingle bells around his neck.  That helped a bit.  
  
We wanted to go catch a movie, but for some reason there were ridiculous queues up outside the cinema.  So we went home instead and watched crappy old Fiommereth movies from the Second Age on community television.  
  
December 19th  
  
I managed to get a bit more shopping done.  Dad has posted his list to the fridge, so that made things a bit easier.  He is the only person I know who will ask for both a medium-sized Phillips head screwdriver and rose-scented bath salts.  I ended up getting him satin pyjama bottoms and a few cinema admission coupons.  Then I found a dance mix CD for Legolas and a Sights of Middle-earth calendar for Bilbo, as well as a generic Fiommereth food gift basket for the other Hobbits.  I still don't know what to get for Aragorn, though.  I was considering getting him a shaving set, but he might be insulted by that.  
  
December 20th  
  
Glorfindel has invited Elrohir and me to Lindir's karaoke and ping pong Fiommereth party tonight.  I am finished my shopping now (having bought a crossword puzzle book for Gandalf, a snowboard magazine for Boromir, and a travelling backpack for Aragorn earlier today), so I might end up going just to try to get me into the holiday spirit.  Elrohir is definitely going, and is wearing his festive socks that light up whenever he takes a step.  Which makes me think that I probably ought to go, if just to keep an eye on him.  He gets a bit excited at parties, even ones full of old people playing ping pong.  
  
December 21st  
  
Even thought I've never known him very well, I've always considered Lindir to be pretty much a watered-down version of Erestor.  Now having met and talked to him outside of work, I'm quite certain he's pretty much a watered-down version of Erestor.  Very watered-down.  He met us at the door, wearing a festive green sweater with bells on it, and shook everyone's hands in a way that indicated he has no muscles in his arms.  I was almost afraid to hand him the plate of veggies and dip Aralindë made for fear he'd drop it.  But he took it and said, "Oh, super!" then scurried off into the kitchen.  His wife, who was wearing a remarkably low-cut gold dress and enough fake diamonds to blind an army, took our coats.  She kept accidentally brushing her bosom against Glorfindel's arm as she did.  
  
She told Elrohir and Aralindë that the kids were all in the basement watching television.  Elrohir took one look at the party, which was in full swing with various parental-types standing around holding paper cups and filo pastries, and took off for the stairs.  Then Lindir's wife introduced herself to Glorfindel as Fainelleth before making the common mistake of turning to Aralindë and saying, "And this must be your... daughter?"  Glorfindel forced a smile and said, "Girlfriend, actually."  Fainelleth got an awkward sort of "Oh" look on her face.  Glorfindel and Aralindë mercifully excused themselves to discover the alcohol.  I decided my best bet would be to follow Elrohir.  
  
We spent most of the party sitting around on bean bag chairs, drinking Coke.  Two who may or may not have been Lindir's kids played ping pong.  I noticed that there was a real live arcade-style pinball table in the corner, but alas it was broken.  And Elrohir was busy chatting up some girl with an eyebrow ring, so I couldn't even talk to him.  All in all I think I would have been better off staying home to help dad and Arwen make mincemeat tarts.  
  
Around midnight I went back upstairs to ask Glorfindel how late we'd be staying, and found him with a rum drink in one hand and a microphone in the other, singing "Born to be Wild" half a beat behind the music.  Lindir was trying to do backup vocals, but I don't think there are any backup vocals on that song so it wasn't working too well.  I walked away slowly without making eye contact and was just about at the stairs again when I ran into Erestor.  He looked like he was having a great time.  He also looked like he could be Lindir's long-lost brother: same dopey expression.  Only he was wearing a red sweater with no bells.  Also, he seems to have muscles in his arms, since he dragged me outside to go for a walk around the back yard.  
  
He talked about a variety of stuff as we walked in small circles (Lindir's back yard isn't very big).  I think the point he was trying to make was that he was sorry for the difficulties we had this summer and would like to try again.  I would have said something in agreement, but he has this disturbing habit of kissing me abruptly and when I least expect it, so I was unable to voice my assent.  
  
Elrohir eventually came out to say it was time to go, right as we were doing something important beside the mugo pines.  At the time I was somewhat upset over his interruption, but in retrospect I'm sure it was for the best.  I would have hated to have caused some sort of problem with Lindir's neighbours over public decency bylaws.  I ended up getting a ride home with Erestor, and I'm glad I did.  Elrohir, stuck in the car with Glorfindel, was conned into agreeing to go to Aralindë's school Fiommereth concert on Monday.  Ha!  
  
On the drive home Erestor and I agreed to keep our relationship a secret.  He said that we really shouldn't worry about it too much, since everybody already knows he has gayish leanings, but I told him that nobody knows about *me* and I don't want to trouble them with such a shock over the holidays.  He paused and slowly said, "Right..."  So we agreed to tell everyone in the new year.  And I'm going to keep up the appearance of not dating by continuing to share the sofa with Elrohir, at least until the Hobbits go (three more days).  
  
December 22nd  
  
Aragorn is acting all weird and quiet.  I hope he's remembered to buy presents for everyone.  There are only two shopping days left until Arfiommereth.  
  
Everything is getting a bit busy around here, with last minute baking emergencies and mad scrambles to dig all the seasonal tapes out from the tape bin.  Arwen started off hand-stitching a bunch of new decorative crafts, but has given up on that and pulled out the glue gun.  Erestor had at one point been trying to learn a few holiday songs to play on the piano, but I think he's abandoned that idea now and has gone back to just "Aladdin Sane".  And Glorfindel is looking generally lost.  He asked me earlier, in a tired voice, if I wouldn't mind if he gave me just a gift certificate or something.  I said that would be fine.  Fiommereth shopping is a bit beyond him, I think.  
  
Then he said he doesn't know why people buy each other presents for "Fiommerel" anyway.  I said I didn't either and, if you think about it, it really doesn't make any sense.  His theory is that gift-giving evolved from the unquenchable Noldorin desire to make things and force them upon others.  He never got any presents when he was a kid in Valmar, so the consumerist mentality obviously couldn't have come from the Vanyar.  
  
I asked him what people did for Fiommereth in Valmar back then, and he said they mostly sat around and ate special food.  But they weren't allowed to do any work, so the food had to be made the day before.  Then they sang songs.  So Glorfindel started to sing,  
  
Á tula, ily' Eldar  
Á tula, nai liralyë  
Á thanga, nai thangalyë  
Valinoressë  
Kenalmitas, i nórë Valaro  
Á tula, á laita ro  
Á tula, á laita ro  
Nai laita ilyë ro  
Manwë heru  
  
Though I think his pronunciation might have included a few more Ds and Zs.  
  
Afterward, I asked Legolas what they did for Fiommereth in Mirkwood.  He said it was more or less a big party with lots of drinking and singing and dancing, and they give presents as well.  They don't have silver or gold Fiommereth trees, though.  Nor to they recognise any association with Eonwë or the Valar.  In fact, their holiday used to be called Arpherhîw back a long time ago, but Fiommereth eventually took over due to cultural assimilation with Sindar from northern Beleriand who were converted by Noldorin missionaries in the First Age, and also because of the greeting card industry.  
  
I was impressed that he knew all this.  He grinned and said he learned it from television.  
  
December 23rd  
  
I am starting to see things from Glorfindel's point of view.  Here we have a real religious day to honour the birth of the son of Manwë, and everyone keeps falling back to old Sindarin traditions as an excuse to get drunk and eat pudding.  Everyone in Valinor must be looking over to us in shame.  Especially to Elrohir.  He's rigged up a battery pack to a string of coloured lights and decorated himself.  
  
But then again, the minute Glorfindel got back from Aralindë's concert he immediately found himself a glass of egg nog and joined the festivities with ivy vines in his hair.  So maybe I'd do best not to be too concerned about it.  
  
December 24th (Fiommerethin)  
  
When Elrohir and I were wee, Elrohir would always get so excited that he couldn't sleep.  As a result, we were locked in the basement with a whole assortment of toys and games and ended up sitting awake the whole night playing Payday.  Inevitably, half an hour after we'd been sent down, dad would stand at the top of the stairs and yell, "Hey Celebrían, where did you put those socks and underwear we bought for Elrohir?"  Which would never fail to make Elrohir look very worried and yell back, "I don't want socks and underwear, I want a race car set!"  
  
We continued to be locked in the basement until Arwen was born.  Then the real fun began, tormenting her by saying, "Oh no!  It's Fiommerethin and dad forgot to mail your letter to Aulë!"  She caught onto that one after two years, though.  And when she was ten, Elrohir took it upon himself to explain that toys weren't really made by Aulë and his workshop of Elves in the west, but by a factory in Gondor.  And they weren't really delivered by Oromë and Nahar, but bought by mum and dad from a store and stuck under the tree after we went to bed.  I don't think she ever really forgave him for destroying the magic.  Years later, Elrohir did the same thing to Aragorn.  But Aragorn rolled his eyes and said, "Duh!"  
  
Now even after all this time, Elrohir still can't sleep on Fiommerethin.  So he's playing Payday with Legolas.  I don't think Legolas can sleep either.  But that might be because Elrohir keeps punching him in the arm whenever he starts to nod off.  
  
December 25th (Arfiommereth)  
  
Elrohir woke me up this morning by bouncing on the bed and shaking me while yelling, "Wake up wake up wake up!" just in case I wasn't already 100% sure of his intentions.  Legolas was standing a few feet away, shaking Elrohir and saying, "Elrohir Elrohir!  Tell him to wake up!"  I looked at the clock.  It was quarter to seven.  I groaned and tried to explain that dad specifically ordered him to stay in bed until at least eight, but he was already off and running to wake dad, Arwen, Aragorn, Glorfindel, and Erestor.  Legolas took off after him to harass Boromir, Gandalf, and the Hobbits.  I went back to sleep.  
  
Elrohir woke me up again at two minutes after eight, looking a bit less chipper.  I think dad must've locked him in the basement.  But I got up and followed him to the kitchen, where everyone had gathered around coffee mugs.  Glorfindel looked particularly horrible, leaning over his coffee and glaring at Elrohir with bloodshot eyes.  He is not a morning person.  I stood next to Erestor and watched as the Hobbits stumbled in.  They are obviously not morning people either.  
  
Finally, when everyone had gathered, dad announced that we could unwrap presents.  Elrohir was the first one to run and sit by the tree, handing out gifts to everyone.  That's his job every year.  I got:  
A DVD burner from "Aulë"  
A DVD documentary about Fingolfin also from "Aulë"  
A full-length bathrobe and matching slippers from dad  
Assorted socks, underwear, and tee-shirts also from dad  
Suede gloves from Arwen  
A CD of 21 different computer pinball games from Elrohir (working in retail seems to have improved his shopping skills)  
A book on photography techniques and a set of close-up filters from Erestor  
A whole bunch of cinema passes from Glorfindel  
A decorative throw pillow from Legolas  
A tin of Laffy Taffy and some blank tapes from Aragorn  
A book of trivia games from Boromir  
A bedside lamp from the Hobbits (probably to replace the one Frodo broke)  
A tin of smoked oysters from Bilbo (???)  
A card and a wad of cash from Gandalf  
A set of five bathroom towels in assorted sizes from grandma and grandpa  
  
After it was all done and over with, Elrohir had the biggest pile of loot by far.  I attribute this to the fact that everything he likes is cheap and plentiful.  His favourite gift was a remote control rat (on wheels) from Erestor.  He's been crashing it into people's feet all day.  But the most sensational gift was Arwen's from Aragorn- an insanely big diamond ring.  She screamed and jumped up and down and nearly crushed Elrohir's rat as it zoomed past.  I think this means they're engaged now.  I wonder if dad approves.  
  
At ten we sat down for a quick breakfast while watching grandma and grandpa's Arfiommereth speech on television.  Then we had to hurry and get dressed in our best clothes for dad's televised speech, and to see off Frodo and company (finally!) as they left for Mordor.  Arwen sobbed and fiddled with her ring throughout the entire thing.  
  
It took a thankfully short time to get everyone's stuff all packed up into the hired bus Aragorn was driving, but Boromir stood around looking surly over having to follow Aragorn's lead.  I told him that Aragorn is supposed to be king of Gondor one day, so maybe Boromir would do best to get used to his leadership.  Boromir frowned and then, after a pause, asked me if I though Aragorn would be open to legalising weed once he's king.  I assured him that would be right on top Aragorn's priority list.  He looked a bit better then and got into the bus.   
  
I said a quick goodbye to everyone else, and promised Legolas I would try to remember to email him at least once.  Then dad had a chat with Gandalf, and the bus took off.  Arwen started sobbing again and wailed that she missed Aragorn.  He'd been gone for three minutes.  The next few months are going to be unbearable.  
  
We went back into the house and all sat down in time to watch Círdan's Arfiommereth speech on television.  Then Elrohir and I were told to move all our stuff out of the den and back to our own bedrooms.  Elrohir grumbled as he walked into his room, but came bolting out two seconds later yelling "I GOT AN IGUANA!!!"  I ran to see, and indeed there was a small green iguana sitting on a branch in a terrarium on his dresser.  In all the excitement caused by the remote control rat, I guess he forgot that dad hadn't given him his present yet.  He took the iguana out, put it on his head, and it sat there all through supper.  He told everyone its name is Dr. Green, but later he whispered to me that the iguana's secret name is Gil-galad.  He just can't tell anyone else because they'd be angry.  I warned him to be particularly wary of this around Erestor.  
  
After supper we gathered in the television room again, with Gil-galad the iguana still sitting on Elrohir's head, to watch Olwë's speech live via satellite from Alqualondë.  An hour later there was Finarfin's speech from Tirion.  About halfway through, when the camera switched to pan the crowd, Glorfindel suddenly jumped up, pointed at the television and yelled, "That's my mum!"  Unfortunately the camera had already cut away and we missed it.  But still Glorfindel sat right up next to the screen for the rest of the speech, and all through Ingwë's speech at midnight, in case she showed up again.  But no luck.  
  
Now Glorfindel is completely confused.  Everyone else has gone to bed already, but he's still sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea, trying to figure out how and why his mum would be in Tirion, and on television.  I suggested that she might have just gone for the speech, but he insists such a thing wouldn't make any sense.  So he's going to sit and worry about it all night, because doing that sure does make sense...  
  
Me, I don't care.  If I saw my mum on television in Tirion, I wouldn't worry about it.  But then, I am very tired right now.  So I am going to watch my new Fiommereth DVD and hopefully fall asleep leaning on Erestor's shoulder.  That would be the best end to a good day, I think.

* * *

_Translation note: Glorfindel's seasonal song is a very dodgy Quendya rendering of 'O Come All Ye Faithful'._


	7. Home for the Holidays: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

December 26th   
  
As per tradition, I stayed in bed until three today before getting up and wandering around aimlessly in my new robe and slippers. Elrohir was already up and on castle four of Zelda. Glorfindel, who was watching him play and looking a bit disgruntled, told me I was wanted in the kitchen. So I wandered over there, where dad and Erestor were trying to find the sprout steamer. Dad explained that since we were so busy yesterday, he decided we ought to have real turkey supper today. He looked a bit stressed. The kitchen looked like a general chaos area.   
  
Erestor told me to get dressed and then come back to peel potatoes, which I did. It was supposed to be Glorfindel's job to do the potatoes, but he complained that mashed potatoes are always too bland and offered to improve them. Dad sensibly panicked and hurried Glorfindel out of the kitchen to keep company with Elrohir, who was kicked out because he sneezed on the turkey.   
  
As soon as the potatoes were done grandma rang long-distance and insisted on talking to someone at once, so I was excused to deal with her. She started off calmly enough telling me all about the electric vibrating back massage wand grandpa gave her that she found a better and more exciting use for, and that the tape Glorfindel sent wouldn't play in her video. I honestly didn't know what to say in reply to this, so I changed the subject by thanking her for the bath towels. She said grandpa picked them out.   
  
Then I said that I probably should go, since we were in the middle of making supper. But she sounded desperate and asked me to stay on the line for a while because grandpa's driving her crazy. They watched a sci-fi movie on cable this afternoon and ever since he's been rambling on about how he doesn't understand how someone could think up an imaginative storyline like that, let alone make it into a movie. She figures he's said, "I just can't get over that movie," at least twenty times since three-thirty. She complained about it in at least twenty different ways before finally (almost an hour later) letting me go.   
  
I saw that supper was ready then, and that Elrohir had changed into supper clothes, put Gil-galad the iguana on his head, and sat down at the table. I sat across from him, as I was wary that if I sat beside him the iguana would climb onto me. It had a sneaky sort of look in its eyes. Dad tried to say that iguanas don't belong at the supper table, but Elrohir wasn't listening to him. He kept touching the iguana and then eating turkey with his fingers.   
  
He had to do the dishes after supper, with the iguana still on his head. I tried to play Zelda, but died four times when those dumb red things shot rocks at me. So I gave up and played the new pinball games Elrohir bought me until Erestor came and interrupted with suggestions of much more worthwhile activities.   
  
December 27th   
  
I don't think I did anything important all day. I didn't get dressed, and I only left my room twice, both times for a plate of what Elrohir calls Merry Fiommereth Mush (which is made by taking a bit of all the leftovers, mushing them together, covering the whole deal with gravy, and microwaving it) and a few Nandorin oranges. Otherwise I stayed in bed and watched television and movies. Elrohir joined me for a while, but he just lay with the iguana on his stomach and made loud breathing sounds, so I'm not even really sure why he was there. Then after Elrohir left Erestor joined me, but he soon fell asleep with his hair dangling onto the gravy plate, and is still asleep now.   
  
I had to get up and lock the door in case anyone like dad or Glorfindel came by and saw us together, but then I thought that the locked door would look even more suspicious. So I propped the door wide open and decided to say that we were innocently watching a movie together if anyone asked. Luckily nobody did, though dad stood in the doorway for a while before shaking his head and walking off. He must've noticed Erestor's hair was in the gravy.   
  
December 28th   
  
When I got up this morning (more like this afternoon, actually), I found Glorfindel sitting at the table with a cup of coffee looking worried again, this time with his pink blankie wrapped around his shoulders. I asked him if he was still thinking about his mum being on television in Tirion, and he said yes. He's been worrying about it since Arfiommereth.   
  
I asked him why he doesn't just write a letter or something to ask, and he got a sort of blank look on his face. Then he said, "I never thought of that!" I asked if he'd ever written to his mum, and he said, "No." So he has been away from his mum for several millenia now and hasn't once written home! For someone who worries about her so much, he is awfully dense.   
  
He is now in sitting at the table with a new cup of coffee and a stack of writing paper. The letter is seventeen pages double sided so far, and he's not even summarised his life up to the end of the First Age yet. This massive biography is going to cost a fortune to post to overseas. Though I suspect he'll just use the postage meter at work.   
  
December 29th   
  
Glorfindel is still working on his letter. It is twenty-nine pages long and counting. He came to an impasse earlier when he couldn't figure out how to spell "Gil-galad" in the Tengwar mode used for whatever dialect the Vanyar speak, but finally he opted just to write "the king" instead. Then I asked how he was going to spell his own name in an alphabet devoid of Gs. He just looked at me as if I were a moron and said, "There are no Gs in my name."   
  
I think he might be under too much stress.   
  
December 30th   
  
Forty-six pages and counting. I hope Glorfindel's mum has a lot of free time on her hands. I also hope Glorfindel's Quendya spelling is better than his Sindarin. He still sometimes forgets that there's an N in "Elrond".   
  
9 p.m.: Glorfindel's letter is finished at a modest sixty-one pages. He claims he had to gloss over most parts because his hand was starting to get cramped from writing. He asked me to proofread it.   
  
10 p.m.: I had to give up proofreading due to the fact that I can't figure out what half the letters are supposed to be. Glorfindel said, "Well, I'm sure it's fine anyhow." So we packaged it up in a big brown envelope.   
  
10-30 p.m.: Glorfindel came into my room after having realised that he doesn't know his mum's address. We tried to look it up in the online directory, but no luck. So he settled for writing her name and then "VALMAR" in big letters with a jiffy marker, and is going to stick on a whole lot of extra postage to compensate.   
  
11-30 p.m.: Glorfindel came into my room again worrying about the appropriateness of including his telephone number with the letter. He did include it, but is worried that his mum might try to telephone him, and she is not very rich and probably can't afford such a thing. I assured him that if she does manage to contact him, he can always get her number and ring her back.   
  
11-50 p.m.: Glorfindel came back in a panic, suddenly having realised that he doesn't think his mum can read. The lower-class Vanyar, he says, have very little interest in literacy and tend to just remember things. He didn't learn how to read or write until he came to Middle-earth to live among the Noldor, after all. By this time I was getting a bit annoyed, but managed to calmly tell him that in all likelihood she knows at least one person in the whole city who can read and will be able to read it to her. He seemed satisfied with that.   
  
12-20 a.m.: Glorfindel came back yet again wondering if he ought to have included his email address along with his telephone number. It was all I could do to keep from cursing as I told him that if his mum is poor, and if she can't read, it's highly likely that she doesn't have a computer. He said, "Oh right," and then left again.   
  
If he comes back to ask me if I think he should have included his fax number, I might have to kill him.   
  
December 31st (New Year's Eve)   
  
Dad is having a party tonight. Elrohir is going to a party tonight. Arwen is going to the pub tonight. I have no idea what to do, and it's almost six.   
  
Ideally, I would like to stay home with Erestor, but that would involve attending dad's party and likely playing Trivial Pursuit or Pictionary with people like Lindir and eating bridge mix. I could always go out with Elrohir, but the parties he likes always involve at least one person either falling down the stairs or passing out drunk in the hedge to a soundtrack of painfully loud punk music while Elrohir is on the sofa trying to get lucky with someone who may or may not be conscious. And the idea of spending time with Arwen and her friends is just not worth considering.   
  
I suppose I could always stay home and watch movies. Though I'd like to at least try to kid myself into believing that I'm not quite that pathetic.   
  
January 1st (New Year's Day)   
  
It is now 3019. Nothing much feels different. I have a bruise on my leg the size of a hamster, but that's about if for changes that have come around since midnight.   
  
At nine I had decided to go with Elrohir to his party, only to discover that he'd already left. So I was forced to resort to Plan B, which was stay at home with dad. That was going well enough (I was on Erestor's team for Tri-Bond) until Aralindë showed up with another stupid vegetable tray. It worries me that she came to dad's dumb party to be with Glorfindel instead of going out with her friends and having fun. Things are getting dangerously serious between them. This was about when I convinced myself that maybe watching movies by myself wasn't so lame after all. All sorts of made-for-television goodness can be found on New Year's Eve, if you know where to look for it.   
  
I got about twenty minutes into some old black and white historical drama about Finwë (the sort where the actors speak in booming voices and wear tights and too much eyeliner) before falling asleep. When I woke up a marginally less old colour historical drama about Thingol was on. It was nearly midnight, so I decided to hazard checking on dad's party and maybe sneaking a drink or two. I walked into the kitchen and interrupted a disappointingly subdued game of Yahtzee.   
  
Erestor gave me a bored look. I gave him a bored look back. He, dad, Glorfindel, Lindir, Fainelleth, Bilbo, and some old Man whose name I can never remember (I think it starts with M) were sitting around looking tired and holding glasses of flat champagne. Aralindë had fallen asleep in her chair next to Glorfindel. I pointed out it was three minutes to midnight.   
  
Bilbo looked at his watch and said, "So it is!" He was the liveliest one there. Everyone else just sort of nodded. They did a rather joyless countdown forty seconds too early, then another, slightly better one at about the right time. Everyone downed their champagne. Then Glorfindel stood up and said, "Well, midnight, guess it's time for bed," at which Aralindë perked up enough to lift her head from the table. Glorfindel is obviously aiming for the prestigious title of First One of the Year to Get His Girlfriend Knocked Up.   
  
Erestor then excused himself to go to the biff and never came back. I stood around helping dad say goodbye to the guests and clearing half-eaten adult food such as whole wheat biscuits with artichoke-cheese dip from the table. Then before I could get a talking-to from dad saying that he was disappointed in me for ditching most of the party to be antisocial, I ducked out of the kitchen (he made the mistake of turning around to put the prawn dish on the counter) and made for Erestor's room. Erestor wasn't there, but I heard the bathroom sink running and supposed he was probably washing up and hopefully talking out the blue contacts. I've still not managed to work up the courage to tell him that his Technicolor eyes frighten me.   
  
I would've gone in to help him wash up, hard-to-reach spots and all, but last time I tried that he panicked when the bathroom door opened, slipped on a spot of wet tile, fell over backward, and banged his head on the towel rack. Which isn't really the best prelude to a romantic evening. Though I guess neither is tripping over my trouser legs while trying to pull them off and subsequently falling on to Erestor's bed, banging my thigh on that damn bedpost in the process (origin of hamster-sized bruise, I'm guessing). Erestor hurried out of the bathroom in time to see me half undressed and near sobbing from the pain. He wasn't very nice about it, either. But he was wearing only a very small towel, so I was able to forgive him easily.   
  
He asked if I'd broken anything, and I said no, my leg was only just bruised. He said he meant broken anything important, like the bedpost or frame. I scowled and said no, his bed was just as sturdy and dangerous as it had always been. Then he leaned over to examine his stupid bed before helping me stand up! He was about to say something that probably also would have been annoying, but I quickly kissed him before he had the chance to complain about anything that would have convinced me I'd be better off spending the night by myself.   
  
I don't recall either of us saying anything coherent and/or noteworthy from that point onward, or at least anything that warrants repeating.   
  
January 2nd   
  
While I was sitting having lunch today, dad came and casually sat down and casually asked why I've spending so much time with Erestor recently. I assured him I had been hired by Glorfindel to do reconnaissance work pertaining to year-end accounting necessities, and Erestor was this close to a severe audit. He asked if that was why I was in Erestor's room on New Year's Eve. I said yes. He asked why Erestor was wearing only a towel. I told him Erestor had just come from the shower. Then he asked why Erestor and I were kissing. For lack of any better response, I said, "New Year's tradition?"   
  
He shook his head and walked away. I wonder how much he saw? I think I might be found out. I went to ask Elrohir if dad had come questioning him too and if he'd given away anything, but he looked sort of scraggly and red-eyed and not quite recovered from partying yet so I think it's safe to assume that he was in no state to divulge any information to dad about Erestor and me. He was just sitting on a chair staring at the telly, which was off. I asked him how his New Years party was, and he mumbled, "Good."   
  
Then he told me he saw an alien while he and his friends were walking home. I was almost convinced, too, until he told me it was sicking up in the car park at Toys R Us. I suggested he send an email to Legolas telling him all about it. This seems like the sort of thing Legolas would appreciate.   
  
January 3rd   
  
Dad sat both Erestor and me down today to accuse us of being sneaky and secretive. Dad asked how long the relationship had been going on, and Erestor said that we didn't have a "relationship". Which is true. He prefers to think of our dalliances more as "organised casual sex". Dad didn't approve of that, though; he is very old-fashioned when it comes to any sex life other than his own. He still thinks Arwen is a virgin!   
  
He asked if we really thought that this relationship (he used the word again despite Erestor's correction) was for the best. Erestor tried to fob him off by saying something about how we're all probably going to be moving to Valinor within the next few years and should be spending our last few moments in Middle-earth making the most of life, but dad didn't buy that. He just told Erestor to shut up and then asked me what I think. I truthfully told him that I am sick of always being considered the responsible one and wanted to do something impulsive and frivolous for once. And since getting a tattoo is too permanent and shaving my head is too late-Second-Age nihilist punk, starting up a scandalous relationship with Erestor is the only alternative. I said that dad wouldn't think twice if it were Elrohir doing all these zany things.   
  
Dad said, "On the contrary, I would be just as concerned over your brother's poor judgement in this matter." Erestor said, "What do you mean, 'poor judgement'?!" I, angry at this point, stood up and yelled, "Elrohir's judgement of relationships is never anything but poor! He even shagged Gildor in the back of Aragorn's van at Fangorn National Park this summer!"   
  
Then everything got very quiet. Dad narrowed his eyes and hissed, "He did what?" But before I could answer he was already up and out to the corridor, yelling for Elrohir in a way that indicated vast amounts of trouble were imminent. I think I probably should have kept my mouth shut.   
  
January 4th   
  
Elrohir and I are moving out. After his talking-to (more like yelling-at) yesterday afternoon, Elrohir decided he couldn't take living here any more. So he got right onto the internet and within two hours found a cheap house for rent on the west side. He came into my room this morning and said, "We're moving out on Wednesday!" He looked very determined, so I didn't dare argue with him. I just innocently asked why.   
  
He said, "Some idiot blabbed to dad that I wheeled Gildor and now he's gone all arsey about it!" I did my best to look sympathetic and said that Gildor probably let it slip in one of his emails. He said, "That's what I figured."   
  
So we're moving out in four days. I should start packing. Elrohir started packing, but has stopped because he can't figure out how to pack an iguana. I should also probably tell Erestor that I'm leaving. This moving business is going to inconvenience our non-relationship somewhat. We may have to start going on actual dates and fooling around in the car and all that typical stuff.   
  
January 5th   
  
Emails from Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas today. I think they must've taken turns at an internet café.   
  
-\----   
From: "Aragorn" <strider@ardamail.com>   
Subject: hey   
  
hey- hows things? were in this dumb little town right   
now cause the hobbits wanted to stop for drinks. they   
make me stop the van every half hour to get up and   
look at stuff. it really sucks. this is taking   
forever. if it was just me driving id be at mordor by   
now. hows arwen? i wrote her an email to but she never   
answers the questions i write. she just goes on about   
dumb crap like her feelings and stuff. hows elrond? is   
he mad at me? gandalf doesnt think so but i dont know.   
let me know.   
see ya,   
A   
\-----   
\-----   
From: "Boromir" <monkeyman78@ardamail.com>   
Subject: Hey   
  
Hey Elladan. Stuffs cool here how are yyou? Aragorn's   
being a jerkoff still but that's okay. I just ignore   
him. He's better that way and just talks to Gandaf and   
Legolas anyway and sometimes Frodo. Is Gandaf supposed   
to be like a chaperone or something? I mean I know he   
smokes and stuff too but I feel a bit wierd drinking   
with him you know? And he won't let us get PPV at the   
motels. Old people suck.   
  
Anyway nothing els is happening. That guy Sam Frodo's   
gardner has a sweet stash of pipeweed so that's cool.   
Makes the drive more bearable you know what I mean?   
But I gotta go now, Legolas wants to use the email.   
  
Bye,   
Boromir   
  
______________   
"Do or do not- there is no try"   
______________   
\-----   
\-----   
From: *Legolas* <legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: Road trip!!! :)   
  
Hi Elladan!!! This is so cool! We're in this really   
cool town right now where there's a big bronse statue   
of a tea pot! I took a photo to show you but this   
internet cafe doesn't have a scanner so I can't send   
it right now and also I don't have the film developed   
yet. There was also a picknick table by the big tea   
pot and Aragorn carved his name into it with his knife   
that's on his key chain. He also has a tape measurer   
on his key chain but I don't know why it's there.   
Boromir has a key chain with a funny leaf on it. My   
key chain just has a owl thats kind of old and a bit   
dirty.   
  
I have to share a room with Boromir and Aragorn at the   
motels we stay at. The hobbit s also share a room and   
Gandalf shares a room with Gimli, I think because they   
both have beards. They do snore alot too. Sharing   
with Aragorn is ok because he sleeps alot and watches   
TV but Boromir is worse because he forgets to wear his   
pants and also takes up too much room in the shower   
(we have to shower together or else the motel will run   
out of water). Last night I had to sleep with him on   
the floor again because he saw another big spider in   
my bed and I HATE SPIDERS!!!   
  
Aragorn says we have to go now because it is getting   
dark and we have to drive more but I will email you   
again soon! :)   
  
CU   
*LEGOLAS***   
\-----   
  
I thought about sending replies but in the end realised that I had nothing to say in return. It occurred to me that everyone I know is uninteresting. So I played pinball instead. I would've done something with Erestor, but he wasn't around and I was too busy to leave the computer and actually look for him.   
  
January 6th   
  
Most of my things are packed. I started off nicely putting everything into boxes, but then realised that would take up too much space in the car. So now I have most things in piles with just a few boxes of CDs and tapes and so forth. Elrohir's also done more packing, but his method is to just toss everything into green plastic bin bags that are then labelled with masking tape. One of the bags is labelled "CLZ", but the other two are just "STUF" so I'm not sure why he even bothered.   
  
January 7th   
  
My room is bare. Everything is in bins, boxes, or piles ready to be moved. Erestor came in to have a look at everything and said, "Yes, it sure looks empty in here." I note he did not say anything to the effect of being sorry I'm moving out! Then dad came in and said something eerily similar, again with no hint that he is sorry to see me go. In fact, only Glorfindel looked the least bit worried and said he'd rather have me stay. He just can't trust Erestor to help him find his car keys after wild nights of drunken revelry, and dad is no help whatsoever when it comes to looking up Thranduil's office telephone number in the online directory. I promised him I'd put the cordless beside my bed so that he could ring me at any hour in case of emergency.   
  
But I think I'm going to have to call round every other day to check on him, since I later saw him peering forlornly into the mailbox. I tried to explain that his enormous letter probably wasn't even in Valmar yet and that he has to be patient. After seven thousand years you think he could handle waiting another two weeks!   
  
January 8th   
  
I have had to put off moving. Glorfindel needs me here. So Elrohir has taken all his things over to the new house to set up, and I will join him as soon as I can.   
  
I am currently helping Glorfindel with the telephone. Unable to wait a second longer, he decided to ring directory assistance in Valmar to try to locate his mum. We've had no luck so far. He's been on the line for nearly half an hour with four different assistants, talking in their funny Vanyarin language, and has established only that his mother does not seem to have a telephone.   
  
Later: After forty-eight minutes one of the directory assistants came up with a number for Glorfindel's grandfather, who seems to have a telephone. The two were connected, and the conversation that followed consisted of a bunch of stuff that was too fast and strange for me to understand interspersed with Glorfindel saying, very slowly and clearly, "Indyodya!" and "Ambarendyassë!" In the end I don't think they ever understood each other, since Glorfindel was wholly unsuccessful in convincing his grandfather that he was in fact who he said he was, not just some wacko telephoning long distance for the fun of it. He was unable to get his mum's number.   
  
I tried to tell him that if he couldn't get his mum's number from either directory assistance or his grandfather, it would be highly unlikely that he'd find it at the bottom of a Bacardi bottle. But he never listens to me when I say relevant things like that.   
  
January 8th   
  
The government Fiommereth break is over, so dad and Erestor had to go back to work today. So did Glorfindel, since it's time for him to get at the year-end material and try to sort out all that accounting stuff. I don't think he did any actual work, though, since when he got home the first think he proudly told me was that he spent all day online looking through email databases, and eventually came up with an email address for his aunt Aldamizdë. Then he spent the last half hour of the day typing her a short message. It took a long time since his "substandard Sindarin keyboard" was missing the letter Z.   
  
I told him he had to type 363 while holding down the ALT key to get a Z. He marvelled at my computer knowledge for a good four seconds before hurrying off to send another email, this one with proper Zs instead of Rs.   
  
January 9th   
  
The telephone company rang Glorfindel this morning as he was leaving to go to work. They asked if he was aware that somebody used his mobile the other day on a long-distance conversation to Valinor for well over an hour during regular rate time. He said yes, he aware, as it was his conversation. Then he asked, out of curiosity, how much it cost. I don't even want to guess what the hapless telephone company employee said, since Glorfindel's response consisted of "WHAT?!!!" and a collection of many unmentionable words besides.   
  
After he disconnected he sat on a chair in the front entry with his head in his hands and made unhappy noises. I asked if there was anything I could do to help, and he said "Steal money from Erestor and give it to me so I can pay my horrific telephone bill." I promised I'd look into that, but since I've never seen Erestor carry enough money to buy anything more than a pizza I probably wouldn't get very far. He made more unhappy noises.   
  
I tried to cheer him up by pointing out that at least he got to talk to his grandfather after such a long time away. He said he'd rather have saved the money, since he doesn't really like his grandfather, and his grandfather doesn't really like him. In fact, his grandfather blames him for ruining his mother's life. Most of his early grandfatherly memories include a traumatic recurring theme of the nickname "Bastard Noldo Child".   
  
I said I was sorry to hear that, and helped him with his coat before sending him out the door. I hope he drives safely. I tried to think of what it would be like to have such a relationship with grandpa, but couldn't imagine it. The worst thing grandpa's ever called me is a "goof". I don't think he knows any words worse than that.   
  
January 10th   
  
I think Glorfindel might be abusing my presence in this house. He made me waste my entire Saturday doing things with him, like Scrabble. I was almost tied with him until he stuck "THAUZON" on a triple word score with the Z on a double letter score and got 75 points. I asked him what a thauzon was. He claimed it was the Vanyarin spelling of "Sauron". I think he might have been fibbing, but there was no readily available Quendya-Sindarin dictionary so I had no way to call him on it. I did point out, though, that the Z tile he used was a blank one with a Z and the number 10 written on it with a Sharpie. He merely sniffed and said that he took the liberty of improving our "substandard Sindarin Scrabble game" to comply with international necessity. He used the other blank tile to make a Q, which is also worth 10 points.   
  
I said it was very convenient how the letters that never occur in Sindarin are worth 10 points. He said they are bonus letters for the enlightened ones. I asked if by "enlightened ones" he meant "Vanyar". He said yes. Then he stuck "QUENDYA" on another triple word/double letter combination for 140 points. I wanted to put down "CHEAT" for my turn, but unfortunately only had the letters to spell "STOOL".   
  
January 11th   
  
Another day wasted, sacrificed to the Glorfindel elemental. He took me shopping to help him pick out a birthday gift for Aralindë. She will be forty-nine in six days. I'm not sure why he brought me along, since I'm by no stretch of the imagination an expert on what high school girls like, but still I had to follow him from shop to shop, watching him dismiss everything as too impersonal, too poorly-made, too large, too small, too pink, too trendy, or too out-of-stock. The shop assistants were no help. They kept trying to sell him scented glittery hair gel and SpongeBob SquarePants tee-shirts. He kept dithering and finding faults until I got a bit fed up and suggested he just buy her some cheesy stuffed animal or heart-shaped necklace and then promise to take her shopping to pick out her own dumb birthday present.   
  
That seemed to make him happy, because he purchased a small beanbag duck and a silver necklace with a crystal flower at the next shop we entered. Then we went home. I should've made my suggestion three hours earlier.   
  
When we got home I tried to seek out Erestor to maybe do something that involved locking the door, but he was nowhere to be found. I asked Glorfindel where he was, but he said he didn't know. He said it very quickly, though, which makes me suspicious. Almost as if somebody told him to say that.   
  
January 12th   
  
Erestor didn't come home until very late. Dad was with him. They both looked tired. I asked where they'd been, and dad said, "Working." Erestor looked very surly, so I let him go to bed with no further questions. Then they left for work again very early this morning, so I had no chance to see him then either. And when they finally got home, I was occupied by Glorfindel who needed my help to figure out how to pay his telephone charges online using Visa, then pay his Visa charges over the telephone by bank fund transfer.   
  
When I finally escaped and discovered Erestor, he was already asleep. Isn't this just my luck! This summer when I was interested in spending time with Glorfindel, Erestor wouldn't leave me alone. And now that I want to be with Erestor, Glorfindel keeps hijacking me for helper-monkey purposes! The three of us ought to get together and try to work out some sort of a deal. Though the way things have been going lately, I wouldn't be surprised if Glorfindel and Erestor buggered off on their own and I was left without either of them.   
  
January 13th   
  
I've not spent more than two minutes alone with Erestor in almost the past two weeks. You'd think there was a plot to keep us apart or something!   
  
January 14th   
  
Dad broke down and admitted that he's been actively trying to keep Erestor and me apart, and that Glorfindel's been helping him. How nice is that! They are deliberately trying to sabotage my love life, since Elbereth knows I can't do that well enough on my own!   
  
I didn't bother to tell them I am leaving. I simply rang Elrohir at the new house and told him to come collect me and my things as soon as he could manage. I left a note for Erestor, though, in case he notices that I'm gone or even remembers who I am after all this time apart. I included the new address and telephone number and also took the liberty of writing them in his day-timer, in case he looses the note.   
  
Now all that's left to do is wait for Elrohir. He should in theory have been here half an hour ago, but obviously he mistook my "as soon as you can manage" instruction to mean "after you have a snack, beat Super Mario 2, shower, eat lunch, talk to Orophin long-distance, have a nap, feed the iguana, and get dressed". I hope he gets here before five. I would really like to be out of the house and on my way to freedom before Glorfindel can twist my arm into helping him sort his closet into piles of what he still wears and what should be put away into drawers, never to be seen again.   
  


* * *

Elvish language notes:   
Glorfindel's Quendya (Vanyarin) words to his grandfather are as follows:   
"Indyodya" - "your grandson"   
"Ambarendyassë" - "in Middle-earth" 


	8. Home for the Holidays: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word "mithi" can be translated as a sort of slang word for the Calaquendi. The Avari here use it as the Elvish equivalent to "whitey".

January 14th (continued)   
  
Rivendell-Elessar! The new house is in Rivendell-Elessar! When Elrohir said "west side", I assumed he would at least have the sense not to go for something in the worst neighbourhood known to all residents of this city! There are stray animals wandering around! There are stray children wandering around! Broken alcohol bottles decorate every street! Half the cars have smashed-up windows fixed with packing tape and cardboard from pizza boxes! And our neighbours on both sides are AVARI!!!   
  
When Elrohir stopped the car and proudly asked me what I thought, I honestly felt ready to cry. The house is two storeys tall but only looks like it has enough paint left to cover one. The screen door has no screen and is inexplicably situated a foot above the ground with no front step leading up to it. The real door behind it has one missing pane that Elrohir fixed with a blue cellophane bag. All in all, it looks like one of those "fixer-upper" specials in the cheap section of the newspaper real estate listings. In fact, it probably was until Elrohir put the deposit down.   
  
I stepped out of the car, looking before I put my feet down to avoid any possible glass hazard. Somewhere down the block, someone was listening to very loud rap music. For lack of anything better, I said, "Yep, it looks like a house." That seemed good enough for Elrohir, because he went bounding up to the stepless front door and waved for me to follow, saying that he wanted to show me around. I didn't want to leave all my things unprotected in the car, so I said that we should maybe bring everything inside first where it will be safer. Safer! Ha! Nothing will be safe in this neighbourhood! I might as well just give away my computer now, and the television, and the DVD player.   
  
We made a few trips to bring everything in and all the while the Avarin neighbours to the left kept looking at us. Three of them were sitting on their front step, obviously showing off that they had one. I wouldn't be surprised if it were really ours and they stole it before I got here. I kept the DVD player and computer wrapped up in clothes so they wouldn't see me bring in all the potentially stealable things we had.   
  
Once everything was in, Elrohir showed me around the house. He showed me the slanty main floor, the creepy damp concrete basement, and the crumbling bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. I left my shoes on the whole time because I was concerned the filthy carpet and lino might get my socks dirty. I think I will have to hire a Rug Doctor tomorrow. Elrohir had my bedroom set up already with one of the camp beds and a Doc Marten's box on top of a Nandorin orange box for a bedside table. He said he tried to assemble a desk out of boxes, but it kept falling over.   
  
Then he showed me his room. I tried to explain that the basketball-sized hole in the middle of the floor (overlooking the kitchen) was a hazard, not a feature, but he wouldn't listen. He said he was going to try to rig up some sort of bucket-and-rope pulley system for transportation of snacks. I asked him what would happen if he got up to go to the biff in the middle of the night and fell in the hole, but he said he found a hubcap in the alley that's the exact right size to cover the hole when it's not needed.   
  
I didn't want to unpack my things and risk dirtying them, so all I did for the rest of the day is sit on a sleeping bag on my camp bed and play computer pinball. Glorfindel rang in a panic around 5-30 after going to find me and discovering my bedroom evacuated, but he didn't even want anything. He was just shocked to find me gone. So I asked him to have Erestor give me a shout when he got home. It is nearly 10 now and still no word from Erestor, though. I am starting to remember that he is a horse's arse most of the time.   
  
January 15th   
  
Between barking dogs, police sirens, and getting up every fifteen minutes to make sure the car wasn't smashed up, I got no sleep last night. Also the camp bed is terribly uncomfortable, which didn't help any.   
  
I went downstairs to see if I could discover any breakfast, but there was none to be found. Elrohir ate the last of the pizza we ordered last night, leaving only a jar of peanut butter, a half-empty box of Dipps bars, and a few things of Jiffy Pop in the cupboards. There was Kool-Aid powder too, but no sugar. I yelled up to Elrohir to ask if there was a secret stash of food somewhere, but he yelled, "No." Then he stuck his arm down through the hole and asked me to pass him two Dipps bars and the peanut butter. That hole really is quite useful, in an annoying sort of way.   
  
Then I yelled that I was going to go to the Extra Foods. He yelled back that he was coming too, so I had to wait twenty minutes while he very slowly got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. We went out to the car, which I was pleased to see was not destroyed at all, and I drove to the Extra Foods. Elrohir made a list along the way.   
  
Once we got there we split up and I went about collecting everything important that I knew Elrohir would forget, like milk and eggs and potatoes and fruit and tea. I was glad I did, since when I met up with him he had a cart filled with naught but jars. Pickles, olives, salsa, cocktail wienies, maraschino cherries, mayonnaise, and about anything else that can come in a jar. He explained that there are no dishes at the new house, and purchasing jars eliminates the need to buy cups. I surreptitiously added a cheap Corel plate set and a pack of plastic cutlery to my cart on the way to the checkout.   
  
I also bought Mr. Clean, TSP, Lysol, a Bee-mop and, according to plan, got the Rug Doctor. I've spent the last five hours cleaning and have so far only finished with my bedroom, the corridor, and the upstairs bathroom. I took a break to check my email, but realised that we have no internet connection yet. I will have to look into that straight away.   
  
January 16th   
  
The house is slightly better now that everything's deep-cleaned and disinfected. I feel safe walking around in just my socks at least, and unpacking my things. We have no high-speed internet connection yet, but I did manage to get the dial-up working until the internet man calls round (next week) to get everything established. So I checked my email and found this one from Aragorn, dated yesterday:   
  
\-----   
From: "Aragorn" <strider@ardamail.com>   
Subject: need your help   
  
hey elladan- whats the password for moria?   
gandalf cant remember.   
A   
\-----   
  
Followed by another:   
  
\-----   
From: "Aragorn" <strider@ardamail.com>   
Subject: ignore   
  
never mind that last message he got it   
A   
\-----   
  
I guess this means they're on their way through Moria now. Which also means they'll be arriving in Lórien soon. So I sent off a quick email to Rúmil telling him to make sure Haldir gives them a hard time at the border.   
  
January 17th   
  
Elrohir is having a party tonight, the purpose of which is supposed to be introducing me to the neighbours. I tried to tell him that I don't want to meet the neighbours, but he claims they're all nice people. I also tried to tell him that they're Avari and by definition can't be trusted. He said that was a racial stereotype and I shouldn't pigeonhole them by their appearance. I said, "What about by their history and reputation?" but unfortunately at that exact second the doorbell rang and Elrohir didn't hear me.   
  
The three shady-looking types who sit on the step next door came in bearing alcohol. Elrohir led them straight over to me and introduced them. I was a bit disappointed to learn that they all had regular Sindarin names like Agladir and Aerben and Callondhaer. The one that I think was Aerben held out his hand and I took it, tentatively.   
  
He said, "What, you afraid to shake my hand 'cause I'm Avarin?" to which I replied, "No, of course not." But he must've known I was lying because then he scowled and said, "You tarrin' me, mithi?"   
  
I had no idea what this meant, so I said, "Not that I am aware of, no." I think he must've said something rude in Avarin, because the other two laughed. But luckily Elrohir intervened right then and asked Aerben if he wanted to hold the iguana. I was able to escape moments later while Elrohir was busy untangling Gil-galad from Aerben's hair.   
  
I slipped up the stairs, and not a moment too soon. Just as I got to the top I saw the door open and five more Avari wearing leather jackets and bandanas trooped in. Not knowing what else to do I rang Glorfindel. He can't stand the Avari and is the only person I can think of who might know how to get rid of them. Unfortunately Glorfindel wasn't home, but Erestor answered the telephone.   
  
Erestor asked me what was wrong and didn't seem the least bit concerned when I explained the situation. I bet he has never had to go to parties with Avari! I asked when Glorfindel would be back and Erestor said that he was out with Aralindë for her birthday and would in all likelihood not be back until Sunday. So I asked Erestor if he knew what Glorfindel would do, but the best he could suggest was an outdated Vanyarin religious curse that Glorfindel is fond of using.   
  
Then I broke down and started complaining about living here with Elrohir. Erestor listened nicely and said he would call round tomorrow to see if there was anything he could do to help. I said that would be good. We talked for about an hour before I decided I ought to go and try to get the party under control. The music had reached a frightening volume and the floor was starting to vibrate.   
  
No sooner had I stepped out from my bedroom than I saw at least eight Avari and a few other regular Elves holding beer and hanging about in the corridor and on the stairs. I took Erestor's advice and said, "Nai velcar Valinoron ortuvar ar matuvar cuilelya nauca!" but they just kind of looked at me and didn't do anything. Religious curses aren't good for anything these days! I gave up and went back into my room. I'm planning to sit here for the rest of the night. Elrohir hasn't noticed my absence yet, so the outlook is good.   
  
January 18th   
  
The house can be called fully liveable now that we have a kitchen sink. Erestor came round this morning, took one look at our squalid filth-hole, none the better after last night's party (which didn't end until half five when the police arrived to shoo everyone home), and said, "We're going shopping." We went to Ikea and bought an area rug, room lamps, cutlery, curtains, a desk, slipcovers for the ratty old sofa and chairs, shelving units, a set of small tables, two mirrors, and several decorative items like candles and picture frames. Then we went to Home Hardware and bought the sink, light switch covers that aren't broken, and new taps for the shower. Erestor put it all on his Visa without a second thought. I think Glorfindel must be right about the millionaire thing.   
  
We brought it all home and got it all set up. The sink leaks a bit, but Erestor is not a plumber so I can't really complain. He told us to make lists of everything we need so we can go out shopping again tomorrow, so I made the following list:   
*coat hangers   
*air freshener candles   
*houseplants   
*real bed   
*bathmat   
*toothbrush holder   
*space heater   
  
Elrohir's was somewhat different. I'm not exactly sure what he's planning on doing with all of it, but he made a list consisting of:   
*bucket   
*rope   
*pulley   
*ladder   
*crates   
*string lights   
*plywood   
*2x4s   
*nails   
*pool mattress   
*paint   
*spray paint   
*bean bag chair   
*pillows   
*old trees   
*big tyre   
*tiles   
*glue   
  
I really hope he manages to contain all this stuff to his own room.   
  
January 19th   
  
Erestor either bought or found everything on the lists. Even the big tyre for Elrohir. I am quite impressed. I really wanted to thank him properly but my new bed is not assembled yet and the camp bed is highly unstable, so we had to settle for being somewhat intimate on the slipcovered sofa while Elrohir was out in the back yard digging up sand for the iguana habitat and chatting with the Avari.   
  
There was also an email from Legolas today:   
  
-\----   
From: "*Legolas*" <legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: Lorien!!!   
  
Hi!!! We're in Lorine now at your grandma's   
house. She's very nice and gave us good   
snacks but she also keeps touching everyone's   
bums. You should tell her it's not polite to   
touch people's bums. Lorien is very small   
compared to Mirkwood but the trees are bigger   
but they are also farther apart so I think   
there are fewer trees.   
  
The Elves here are very weird and talk funny.   
I met one named Haldir who kept accidently   
tripping me but then a nut fell on his head   
from out of one of the big trees. We had to   
sleep in a tree on a platform!! It was like   
being in an army movie. Boromir was scared he   
might fall of the edge so he had to sleep   
between me and Aragorn and share my blanket   
and pillow because his fell off the edge and   
landed on a big mushroom.   
  
I don't know how long we will stay here.   
Maybe a long time. Gandalf fell in a hole   
and now nobody knows what to do.   
  
*LEGOLAS*   
\-----   
  
I wonder if Gandalf is injured? I wish Legolas would've said how big the hole was, and if Gandalf twisted his ankle or anything.   
  
January 20th   
  
Erestor came by after work today to help try out the new bed. It works quite well. He also brought a DVD of some mindless Gondorian action movie that we could pretend to watch, but that worked less well. Elrohir insisted on watching the movie with us, which wouldn't have been so bad had he not sat himself directly between Erestor and me. About halfway through Erestor got up to fetch a Coke and sat next to me when he came back. But less than ten minutes later, Elrohir went to make popcorn and then sat back down between us again.   
  
Either he has been hired by dad to keep Erestor and me apart and is terribly clever in his innocent sneakiness, or he is dumb as a bag of hammers and doesn't realise how infuriating his inconsiderate seating arrangements are. With Elrohir, it's hard to tell.   
  
January 21st   
  
Today Elrohir asked me what I want for my birthday. Mine is the only birthday he ever remembers, since it's the same day as his. He can never remember dad's or Erestor's, even though they both share a birthday too (March 22nd). He doesn't remember that Arwen's is May 12th, Grandma's is October 10th, Grandpa's is March 16th, and Aragorn's is August 26th. I know all of these because they are in my computer's date book. Nobody knows Glorfindel's birthday, not even Glorfindel, but he figures it's probably sometime around the beginning of August. Therefore he celebrates his birthday every year on the first Saturday in August, to maximise partying potential.   
  
I told Elrohir I hadn't though much about birthday gifts, even though I probably should since our birthday is in ten days. He told me he wants a cat. I think the only reason he had for asking me what I want is to make sure he had a chance to tell me what he wants.   
  
January 22nd   
  
Elrohir is doing something in his bedroom. It involves lots of banging. I tried to peer up through the hole to see what was going on, but he had it covered. All I know is that he took everything Erestor got him from the list and hauled it in there. What he's actually doing with it is a mystery. A very loud mystery that is preventing me from having a nap or watching telly.   
  
January 23rd   
  
The banging stopped at about 10 last night, but Elrohir was still up until three or so dragging things around. Now he's sweeping up the mess and tossing unneeded things out the window into the back yard. I still have no idea what he's doing and he refuses to show me until it's finished.   
  
A large portion of carpet just went flying out the window and landed on the deck. I might have to go and put a stop to this nonsense.   
  
Elrohir just yelled down through the hole asking me if we had any sandpaper. I said no. He's using a Brillo pad instead; I passed it up to him in a bucket. I note he has the bucket-pulley system installed.   
  
I wonder if the landlord knows he's doing all this?   
  
Oh well. At least the internet guy finally called round to hook up our DSL. Now I can ignore Elrohir's shoddy construction job in favour of watching flash animation cartoons online.   
  
January 24th   
  
Elrohir showed me his bedroom. It looks exactly like something he would do.   
  
He has built himself a new bed out of the plywood and 2x4s. The only thing is, it's situated diagonally across one corner of the room, four feet up the wall. Rather like a bunk bed with no bottom bunk. He uses the ladder to get up to it. At least it seems sturdy enough, though, with more 2x4s used to hold it up. The old trees form decorative columns. He's used a few sheets to section off a little fort in the space underneath the bed, and filled that space with pillows.   
  
Shelving units made of old wooden crates line the walls, and strings of Fiommereth lights hang festively above the crates. There is a tyre swing in one corner. But perhaps strangest of all, he's for some reason tiled all the area within a two foot radius of the hole. I guess to facilitate his bucket-and-pulley setup, but I'm not sure how. It looks a bit peculiar, to say the least.   
  
I must've been staring with my mouth hanging open in shock, because Elrohir looked nervous and said, "What?" I said, "It's very original." He perked up a bit at that, enough to grab my hand and drag me over to the under-bed fort. He said, "Look, now we have our own secret hideout!"   
  
I mentioned that since we have our own house, a secret hideout within that same house is somewhat redundant. We can hide out just as secretly in the living room or the kitchen, after all. He looked hurt and said, "But this is fun!" He then got out the iguana, fetched a bag of Doritos, and pulled over the crate with the television and Nintendo on it to demonstrate just how much fun can be had while sitting under the bed.   
  
Really, I don't suppose that the fun that can be had in an under-bed fort differs from the sort of fun that can potentially be had in the living room in any significant way. But still I ended up sitting in Elrohir's fort for the better part of five hours, watching him play Nintendo and eat Doritos with an iguana on his head just so I wouldn't hurt his feelings. I was almost rescued halfway through hour four when the telephone rang, but Elrohir had hijacked the cordless and, upon checking the call display, declared that it was nobody important and refused to answer.   
  
I am starting to seriously suspect that he might be insane. I am tempted to print off one of those on-line psychiatric tests and try to con him into taking it.   
  
January 25th   
  
I spent most of today in Elrohir's fort. He seems unwilling to let me leave. He's been bringing me tea and other insubstantial refreshments all day as I lie watching bad television. Sometimes he sits very close and pets my hair while talking to me in the same voice he uses to talk to the iguana.   
  
Around supper time (Elrohir brought me a box of soda biscuits and a carrot to eat) the telephone rang, but again it was "nobody important". I really wish I knew who this nobody was. If he or she was anyone more important than Legolas, I'm going to be very upset.   
  
January 26th   
  
Elrohir is surely insane. He made me sleep in the fort with him last night, clinging to my shoulders as if I were about to try and escape any second. Which I probably would have done, had he not been clinging to me. Though I did get him to leave the house for a short while this morning, to run down to the corner store and get some juice. While he was gone, "nobody important", better known as Erestor, rang and had a good complain about how he's been trying to get hold of me for three days.   
  
Erestor is in a panic. Dad is in a panic. The office is in an uproar. The government will soon cease to function. And all because Glorfindel quit his job. Quit his job! Just like that! He walked in on Friday morning and announced that it was his last day. Preliminary reports give account of how dad yelled things on a theme of disbelief, then swore, then pleaded with Glorfindel to stay at least until the end of June when the year-end accounts are done. But Glorfindel would have none of that. He spent the better part of Friday afternoon cleaning out his desk and erasing all questionable temporary internet files and bookmarks from Netscape. Then he spent the better part of Friday night cleaning out his bedroom, since dad has evicted him.   
  
So now Erestor has to do Glorfindel's job, and dad and Lindir share Erestor's job while also doing their own. Erestor used to be Glorfindel's assistant, and worked as chief accountant for the Government of Lindon for a while, so he knows what to do. I asked him why Glorfindel quit, but he didn't know. Then I asked him where Glorfindel went, but he didn't know that either. So for all we know Glorfindel could have run off to Valinor by now, with no warning! That seems like something he would do.   
  
When Elrohir got back I was on the telephone trying to reach Glorfindel's mobile, but his number was unavailable. Elrohir gave me a stern look for daring to come downstairs. I tried to explain the situation about Glorfindel being missing and homeless, but Elrohir said that Glorfindel has a platinum Visa and is probably at this moment sipping room service cocktails in the Jacuzzi at a five star hotel. He is probably right. That sounds much more like Glorfindel than sleeping in a pile of newspaper under a bridge.   
  
I will have to keep trying his mobile though, just in case. When Elrohir lets me leave the fort again. Right now he is downstairs with two of the Avarin neighbours attempting to invent supper. I was hoping they'd at least make some weird Avarin food like bannock and venison stew, but I think they're doing Hamburger Helper. How boring. What's the point of having Avarin neighbours if they act just like everyone else?   
  
January 27th   
  
The Avari called round again today for lunch, helping Elrohir to make grilled cheese sandwiches and vegetable soup from a tin. He's spending an awful lot of time with them lately. If he's not careful, he's going to end up listening to rap music. He already wears huge trousers, so the danger is very real.   
  
The one that I think is Agladir tried to talk to me while lunch was being made. He talked about regular everyday things like television and movies. I was a bit disappointed to see no indications of Avarin culture whatsoever, and I mentioned this. He asked if I'd rather he talk about canoes and totem poles and fur trapping and I said yes, that would make for an interesting conversation.   
  
Then he said, "Sure, I'll talk about that if you tell me all about mining jewels and forging weapons and swearing oaths to your Valar, since being Noldorin you'd know all about those things, right?"   
  
I told him that I hardly thought so, and that such vague historical stereotypes were in no way relevant to modern Noldorin society. But he didn't seem to get the point, since he then gestured at my GHU tee-shirt and said, "Did you kill a Telerin guy and take that from him? Or do you only steal ships?"   
  
Honestly! Some people are so rude and ignorant! After assuring Agladir that no, I paid full price minus twenty percent for the tee-shirt at a legitimate GHU campus shop, I went upstairs. And I am not going back down until they leave. Perhaps Elrohir did have the right idea with this constant staying-in-the-fort business.   
  
I did manage to get hold of Glorfindel though. He was in bed at the Hotel Eriador eating grapefruit and watching pay-per-view. I tried to get his room number so that I could escape to join him in paradise, but he said that Aralindë was on her way over due to some sort of emergency, and he hung up almost right away. It is just like him to abandon my in my hour of need, even after I helped him with all that letter-writing and telephoning to Valmar! We'll see if I ever do that again.   
  
January 28th   
  
Elrohir is hanging around with the Avari. That seems to be all they ever do. They hang around next to, lean against, or sit on things. Right now they are out on the deck next door, sitting, leaning, and hanging around. Despite the cold, Elrohir is stretched out on a blanket in his shorts, trying to get a tan so he looks more like them. They are listening to rap music. I fear for Elrohir's future.   
  
I tried ringing Glorfindel again, but he only said, "Look Elladan, I have a few problems to work out and can't really talk right now," and hung up just like that. Then I tried Erestor, but he wasn't at his desk. Dad was at Erestor's desk, though, so I talked to him for a while. He asked me what I want for my birthday. I said a new Teflon fry-pan would be nice. The one we have now Elrohir found in the garage, and it's all scratched-up and things stick to it. He also asked me what Elrohir wanted. I said, "Artificial intelligence."   
  
January 29th   
  
It has come to my attention that it is socially impossible for Elves to live in groups of anything less than four. We live with parents, siblings, children, friends, cousins, and so forth. Parents whose children have moved away to other groups usually return to live with their own parents. All of Aragorn's friends that I've met live either alone or in pairs, but Elves always live in groups. Elrohir and I tried living just as a two, but I suppose we count as Elves because now we are part of a four.   
  
I had hopes that today would be a day where nothing happened, since I've not had one of those nothing days for a while, and chances were looking good. But then at five Glorfindel showed up at the door with a collection of suitcases and his pregnant girlfriend. I just knew this would happen! The entire function of heterosexual people getting it on is to produce small Elves, so I don't know why they act so surprised when nature takes its course. I'd think they would have figured it out by now.   
  
Glorfindel explained using very few words that Aralindë had to leave her house due to difficulties between her and her parents over this matter. She was clever enough to carefully dispose of the home pregnancy test kit while leaving the box it came in sitting on the back of the toilet. As a result, the two of them need a place to stay. I don't recall actually giving permission before he started hauling things inside and commandeering the sofa. I was about to complain when Elrohir came back in from another tanning session singing something about his name being "the real Slim Shady". He looked dead pleased to see that Glorfindel was moving in. Maybe Glorfindel's presence will influence him back toward wanting to be a Vanya and away from this Avarin nonsense.   
  
I can hope, at least. Elrohir has abandoned his deck buddies in favour of looking from the kitchen doorway at Glorfindel, who is sitting on the sofa trying (and failing) to comfort a sobbing Aralindë. She refuses to cry on his shoulder because her tears and snively nose, not to mention all the runny makeup, will ruin his dry-clean-only rayon shirt. I'm not 100% sure, but I think that having them live here will drive me batty.   
  
January 30th   
  
I will be 2910 years old tomorrow. I don't feel much older than 2500, though. When dad was my age, he'd already been governing Rivendell for well over 1000 years. I don't think my life thus far is much of a comparison. Though maybe I can chalk it all up to dad being a keener.   
  
When I went downstairs Aralindë was busy at work making breakfast. She seems to be adapting remarkably well to her impending future as a homemaker, marrying Glorfindel and having ignorant babies. Glorfindel was just lying on the sofa looking tired and overwhelmed. He'd taken off his rayon shirt, but I guess Aralindë is done crying for now (actually she looked disturbingly happy) because I didn't see any mascara smudges on him.   
  
I talked to dad at noon, and he said he'd made arrangements for him and me and Elrohir and Arwen to go out for birthday supper tomorrow at a fancy restaurant. I told him we'd be better off just going to some cheap place that has chicken fingers, which is all Elrohir ever orders anyhow, but he said he already made reservations at Whitesides.   
  
Whitesides means of course that we're going to have to get all dressed up in our formal stupid clothes. And I don't think anyone realises just how much I dislike Elf clothes. Really I'd be far more comfortable in a shirt and sport coat borrowed from Glorfindel, but Whitesides is expensive enough to require the whole velvet and brocade extravaganza with long drapey parts that dangle in the mud and huge sleeves that are entirely impractical when eating anything that includes sauce. Unfortunately Arwen loves these formal outfits, and guess who dad listens to most of the time?   
  
I asked Glorfindel if he had any proper Elf clothes I could borrow, since mine are all still at dad's and I don't want to have to drive all the way across town just for the sake of some stiff uncomfortable outfit. After a few minutes of digging through suitcases he came up with a slightly wrinkled dull green ensemble (100% rayon). I guess it'll have to do. With any luck everyone will be looking at Arwen anyhow and won't pay any attention to what I'm wearing.   
  
January 31st (Birthday)   
  
I woke up this morning to the realisation that I hadn't bought Elrohir a birthday present. Also to the sound of a funny noise outside. I tried to go back to sleep and dream up a suitable present, but the noise wouldn't stop. It sounded a bit like a homemade car alarm. So I went downstairs and outside to discover a small brownish kitten sitting on the pavement in front of the house. It looked up at me and made the noise. If I had to guess from its voice I'd say this kitten had ancestors that were finches and ducks.   
  
I picked up the kitten and brought it inside, and gave it a bit of half and half in a yoghurt lid. That made the noise stop. Then I took it upstairs to ask Elrohir what we should do, but that was a big mistake. He took one sleepy look at the noisy kitten and said, "A cat! You got me a cat!" I'd forgotten that's what he'd asked for. He took the kitten and snuggled it into bed with him, despite the fact that it had just come in off the street and was probably filthy. He named it Beep, after the noise it makes.   
  
I asked if Beep had a secret name like Dr. Green/Gil-galad the iguana, but he just looked at me warily and said, "Maybe." Then he went to the closet and got me my present, which was a collection of previously-viewed DVDs and VHS tapes of obscure foreign movies. Some of them look interesting and well-done, but I think Elrohir plans to make me watch all of them while sitting in his fort with the iguana (and now the cat).   
  
At five dad and Arwen came to collect us for dinner. They hadn't had the pleasure of coming to see us at the new house yet, so I gave them a short tour while Elrohir frantically snooped through Glorfindel's clothes looking for something to wear. Glorfindel was hiding in the bathroom at the time. He and dad are not speaking.   
  
Dad looked around sadly at the cracked plaster and dirty lino and said, "Well, I guess if you're happy here..." It took considerable willpower to stop myself from clinging to him and refusing to let go until he agreed to take me back to our real house and forbid me from ever leaving home again. In fact I probably would have become clingy had Elrohir not right then discovered a horribly outdated purple poncho-like monstrosity with silver trim. He threw it on over his shiny red jeans and announced himself ready to go. Dad shook his head but said nothing. Arwen said, "Daaa-aad! He can't wear that!" but did nothing. Elrohir grinned happily and walked out to the car.   
  
Supper itself was fairly uneventful. Dad found a hair in his food, but then again he always does whenever we go out to eat. Elrohir was impressed that the restaurant had Diet Dr. Pepper. He drank five glasses and went to the biff twice. Arwen tried to be sophisticated by ordering something with a weird name, but ended up eating half of Elrohir's chicken fingers. I dropped a prawn in my lap and it got lost among the endless folds of Glorfindel's outfit. Then dad gave us our presents: a Teflon fry-pan for me, and a book of pie recipes for Elrohir.   
  
When dad dropped us home again he didn't come into the house. He has a low tolerance for squalor, I think. It was just as well because when I walked through the front door the first thing I saw was Glorfindel and Aralindë being moderately R-rated on the sofa. Glorfindel yelled, "Manwë's pants, don't you ever knock?!" to which I replied, "It's my house!" Glorfindel flopped over with an exasperated sort of sigh and Aralindë looked at the floor while pulling a blanket up to her neck. Elrohir said, as he went up the stairs, "Get a room!"   
  
At this Glorfindel's head popped back up and he had a peculiar expression on his face. He said, "Alright, I will!" Then he got up from the sofa, zipped his trousers, and fetched his chequebook. He handed me a substantial cheque and said, "That should more than cover half the rent. I am now in charge of half of the house and half of the bedrooms herein." Before I could think of what to do he was upstairs dumping everything from my bedroom into the corridor! When I shouted for him to stop, he simply pointed to Elrohir's room and said, "You live in there now." Of all the nerve!   
  
And I expected Elrohir to at least be somewhat opposed to this new arrangement. But for some reason he's thrilled to be sleeping in the fort while I occupy the bed. Great! This is just great! And some birthday it's turned out to be! A dirty, noisy cat, Glorfindel's ill-fitting clothes, a family restaurant experience I could have done without, and now eviction from my own bedroom! I don't see how this can get much worse.   
  
Actually I do. Elrohir just turned on the Nintendo. He has an iguana on his head and a kitten in his lap and is singing along with the Mario music. And he keeps peering up at me with a goofy smile every time he kills a koopa. I think I will soon go crazy. I will have to document the experience well so that when I finally do go, everyone will know exactly who to blame.   


* * *

NOTES: The word "mithi" can be translated as a sort of slang word for the Calaquendi. The Avari here use it as the Elvish equivalent to "whitey".   
  
Glorfindel's religious curse translates as "May the flames of Valinor rise up and consume your twisted life". 


	9. Home for the Holidays: 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

February 2nd  
  
Unable to stand my home life, I spent the weekend with Erestor.  Or at least I tried to.  We went out to a movie last night only to get back to dad's house and discover Elrohir had invited himself over.  He and dad were attempting an apple-cherry pie from the new recipe book.  As soon as we walked into the kitchen to see what was going on (I'm sure they conspired to lure us in with the smell of pie), Elrohir went all happy and announced that, since we were all together, we should have a family television night.  This of course appealed to Arwen, who is into all that dumb family stuff, and dad, who complains that he never sees us enough when we are around but then makes no effort to visit when we aren't.  
  
So Erestor and I were forced into watching two hours of bad sitcoms on cable.  We tried ignoring the telly and my strange family for a while, but that only resulted in dad making disapproving noises and turning the lights on really bright and Elrohir saying, in a parental-type voice, "Elladan, this is supposed to be family night."  They all looked very self-righteous in a Readers Digest sort of way.  Arwen was seated on the floor while Elrohir, cuddled up with dad, plaited her hair.  
  
After a while Erestor got up, saying he was going to the bathroom, but he never came back.  I tried the same thing but dad was too smart to fall for it.  It was an hour and a half of made-for-telly crappiness before Erestor and I were reunited.  And we actually had about eight hours alone together (a new record, I'm sure) before we were interrupted by dad pretending he needed to talk to Erestor about something that probably didn't exist.  At that point we gave up on quality time and Erestor simply drove me home.  
  
At home, Glorfindel was sitting on the sofa wearing a bathrobe and eating noodles.  He looked rather on-edge.  Aralindë was bringing him tea on a tray.  I asked what he did to warrant this sort of royal treatment, and Aralindë explained that he cut his hand on the serrated metal part of the Glad Cling-Wrap box while trying to cover a bowl of lima beans, and he needed special care.  While helping him drink the tea she accidentally spilled some down his bathrobe.  He yelled at her, she started crying, and right then I felt a headache coming on.  
  
Even though it was only half two, I already knew that the rest of the day just wasn't going to be worth staying up for.  So I went to sleep, and woke up a while later.  The first thing I saw was Elrohir sitting in the middle of the floor playing Spider Solitaire on my computer, wearing a pink tee-shirt that said "Playful Pussy".   I went back to sleep.  I woke up again some time later to Elrohir poking me and saying something about a groundhog seeing its shadow.  I didn't want to even think about what that meant, so I went back to sleep.  This has officially been the worst Sunday I can remember in a long time.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 84%  
Cause of insanity: Elrohir 60%, other family 25%, Glorfindel 15%  
  
February 3rd  
  
When I woke up this morning, it was to the noise of Aralindë whining that she didn't want to go to school and Glorfindel demanding that she give him back his car keys.  As a result, I didn't feel inclined toward getting out of bed.  So I didn't, except once to cross the room to the bucket-and-pulley setup and have Elrohir pass me up some Pop Tarts and lemonade, and then twice to go to the biff.  It worked out alright.  I didn't really miss the outside world at all.  I may try the same thing tomorrow on an ongoing experimental basis.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 75%  
Cause of insanity: Glorfindel 80%, inescapable bodily functions 20%  
  
February 4th  
  
I had to get out of bed today.  Elrohir decided he wanted to join me, and he kept squirming and wiggling and clinging to my arm and getting his hands tangled in my hair.  It just wasn't worth the hassle.  So I went downstairs hoping to spend the day on the sofa watching television, but Glorfindel was seated at the coffee table trying to work out something on graph paper.  I asked him what he was doing and he said that, given local mill rates and assessed land values we were paying approximately 13.8% too much for our rent.  I think he misses being an accountant.  I asked if he did, but he just looked down at his calculations and muttered something about T3 forms.  
  
Then I asked why he quit his job.  He said the idea came to him one day when he was sitting in the lunch room.  Lindir asked him how long he'd been an accountant, and he had to work it out on his adding machine.  Over 6800 years!  It was then he realised he didn't even want to be an accountant in the first place and he'd wasted most of his life stuck behind graph paper, adding machines and, in recent years, spreadsheet software.  He has scars on his fingers from centuries of paper cuts.  
  
I decided that it might be best to simply leave the house altogether and go for a walk, so I walked all the way downtown for lunch.  By the time I got back, Aralindë was home from school, Elrohir was out of bed, and Glorfindel was on some long rant about clothes.  He has made the stunning observation that male fashion is boring; all we ever wear is either jeans and tee-shirts or pleated trousers and button-up shirts, occasionally with suit jackets, while girls get all sorts of fun things like long skirts, short skirts, tight jeans, stretchy shirts, blouses, dresses, and so forth, in a multitude of colours.  
  
I think he might be right on this.  Looking around, it was easy to notice that Aralindë's plaid skirt over fishnets with a tight sparkly shirt and jean jacket was far more interesting that Glorfindel's grey rayon trousers and red button-up shirt or my black jeans with black tee-shirt.  Actually Elrohir might have been more interesting since he was sitting on the sofa wearing blue underoos and a race-car blanket, but that doesn't really count.  
  
Aralindë asked Glorfindel what sort of clothes he'd rather have, and he got out an old National Geographic and pointed to a photograph of Elves on the streets of Valmar.  To me it looked like they were wearing pyjamas, but I didn't say anything.  Aralindë said she could make something like that, and Glorfindel eyed her suspiciously until she explained that the one class in which she actually did well was home economics.  They're going to the fabric shop tomorrow to get materials for Glorfindel's Vanyarin clothes.  Elrohir asked Aralindë if she could make him a monkey costume.  She said she'd think about it.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 51%  
Cause of insanity: Elrohir 35%, cat pee on jacket 65%  
  
February 5th  
  
I had to get out of bed before eight today.  Elrohir kept attacking me.  I really think I need to get him a scratching post or something.  
  
We all ended up going to the fabric shop.  Elrohir wanted to go to try and get fabric for his monkey costume and I decided to go because there was nothing better to do, so we piled into Glorfindel's car and went to collect Aralindë from school.  Then we headed to Festive Fabric.  
  
The shop was full of grandmotherly types buying patches for quilts and young mothers hauling around yelling children.  Aralindë and Glorfindel immediately wandered off to look at patterns, leaving Elrohir and me alone and confused in the fleece section.  Elrohir found some polar fleece with neon monkeys on it that he thought would be good for his monkey costume.  I tried to explain that a monkey costume would probably be better just made out of plain brown fleece since monkeys are plain brown and not printed with neon images of themselves, but he didn't seem to understand that.  
  
It took Glorfindel two hours to pick out a pattern he liked, find suitable fabric, and pay for it.  I'm sure he would have taken longer, but the shop was closing.  In that time Elrohir managed to knock over a table of flannelette, lose his wallet in a button bin, get a separating zipper caught in his hair, and unroll an entire bolt of vinyl into a pile on the floor.  The shop manager eventually had to make him stand outside.  He never did get fabric for his monkey costume, though he did steal a scrap out of the dustbin to make a vest for the iguana.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 58%  
Cause of insanity: Elrohir 100%  
  
February 6th  
  
When Elrohir and I were younger and had to share a room on occasion, he would frequently keep me awake all night talking or playing stupid little games.  He seems to have reverted back to that level.  He was up for a good hour last night getting me to help him list off all the edible plants of the world, starting off with the easy ones like carrots and apples and moving along to strange things like sphagnum moss, which I would argue isn't edible at all.  I tried to pretend to be asleep more than once but he kept going.  At one point he was silent for a good twenty minutes and I though he was finished, but then he quickly stood up, poked me, and said in a triumphant voice, "Hey Elladan!  Dillweed!"  
  
Everything just went downhill from there.  I got little sleep, and in the morning Glorfindel started worrying about his mum again while simultaneously complaining that the Miruvor in our fridge tastes suspiciously like McCain peach punch concentrate mixed with cooking brandy and Incrediberry Kool-Aid.  Then Elrohir kept walking in on me while I was trying to have a bath and then leaving the door open.  Really, the only good thing that happened all day was that Aralindë stayed late after school in the home ec lab to work on Glorfindel's new outfit, so I didn't have to put up with her until seven.  But then when she came home she started a fight by accusing Glorfindel of stealing her Nivea cream.  The fighting I can handle- it's the apology smooching that really makes me want to kick something.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 90%  
Cause of Insanity: Elrohir 51%, Glorfindel & Aralindë 49%  
  
February 7th  
  
Elrohir disappeared today.  He was gone when I got up and wasn't around all day.  But then he randomly appeared again in time for supper, so I suppose there's really nothing to worry about.  
  
But without Elrohir to distract me all day, I was forced to pay more attention than usual to Glorfindel, and he was being crazy.  The cut on his hand from the Glad Cling Wrap box had gone nasty since he tried to disinfect it with tonic water, so he was leaning over the sink attempting to perform some sort of fixing operation with one of Aralindë's sewing pins and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.  I instinctively knew this wasn't the brightest thing to be doing, and I offered to drive him to the walk-in mediclinic, but he refused.  This is what they did back during the First World War, he said.  
  
I was certain that Glorfindel hadn't actually been in the war, so I asked him about it.  He pshawed me and said that he'd seen action at Angband back in the day.  Still suspicious, I rang Erestor.  He confirmed that Glorfindel had indeed seen action at Angband, but he had only seen it, not participated.  Glorfindel's war experience, according to Erestor, involved showing up with a government convoy to take inventory, getting sick at the sights and smells, meeting Maedhros, and throwing up on his boot.  I asked Erestor if this was reliable information.  Erestor said yes, he heard it from Gil-galad who heard it from Círdan who heard it from Finrod who heard it from Turgon who heard it from Fingon who was right there when it happened.  
  
When I asked Glorfindel he denied everything.  He was still standing at the sink, poking himself with the pin and cursing Glad boxes everywhere.  I can't really imagine him sicking up on a General, but then I also can't imagine him actually doing anything useful in a war.  So I'm not sure what to believe.  
  
Relative level of Insanity: 50%  
Cause of Insanity: Glorfindel 40%, Erestor 40%, Elrohir 20%  
  
February 8th  
  
No sign of Elrohir all of today either.  I wonder what he's up to?  He could be out partying it up with Aragorn's friends again, hurling himself off the flatbed of a fast-moving half-ton onto a pile of flaming two-by-fours propped up against a wheelie bin for all I know.  He did that a few years ago and had Halbarad make a videotape.  
  
I tried to spend more time with Glorfindel, since Aralindë was at the school working on his Vanya costume.  He was eating a box of brandy beans and watching reruns of That Second Age Show on channel eight.  I attempted a conversation and suggest we do something, even go to the park and feed the ducks, but he kept shushing me.  So I gave up and rang Erestor.  He wasn't home.  Dad was home, but he was busy rearranging the living room furniture with Arwen.  Nobody in this stupid city ever wants to do anything!  
  
Relative level of insanity: 76%  
Cause of insanity: Everybody who isn't me 100%  
  
February 9th  
  
I talked to grandpa for a while today.  Very simple things amuse grandpa.  He's content to just put a bean in a pot and grow a begonia.  In fact, he told me all about his new begonias, which are just starting to sprout.  I let him talk for twenty minutes.  I had nothing better to do.  
  
Next I talked to grandma.  She asked me how my love life was going.  I said it was excellent.  She didn't seem to catch the sarcasm.  Then she said she sent Elrohir and me Melevellar gifts in the post that should be arriving any day now.  I sincerely hope it's regular little chocolate hearts and candies, and not something that I will have to hide.  
  
I also rang Erestor, but he had gone to the Legion with dad to drink.  I wonder if he realises that he's actually supposed to make an effort to talk to me sometimes?  
  
Relative level of insanity: 60%  
Cause of insanity: Overwhelming boredom 70%, Erestor 30%  
  
February 10th  
  
Glorfindel insisted I come shopping with him today.  We went to a girly underthings shop.  Glorfindel explained that he needed to find a Melevellar gift for Aralindë and required the expert advice of Erestor and me.  Really, he couldn't have picked worse shopping companions.  I don't know the first thing about girl panties and Erestor just has lamentable fashion tastes all around.  He still wears shoes with tassels.  Also he was upset at having been dragged out of work, so was even less help than usual.  But Glorfindel never does anything that makes sense or seems reasonable.  I ought to have learned by now not to question or even think about his eccentricities.  I'll just have to start smiling and nodding.  
  
The first thing the shop assistant (her nametag read "Annis") asked was what we were looking for.  Glorfindel didn't really know.  Something sexy for his girlfriend, he said.  Annis said she could recommend a few things, and asked what size.  Glorfindel didn't know that either.  He said smallish and made a vaguely Aralindë-shaped gesture with his hands.   Then he picked up a lacy red bra with feathery bits and said he liked it.  Annis told him that bras come in a whole variety of sizes and really should be picked out to fit properly by the person who is going to wear them.  Glorfindel frowned and asked why they didn't just have any that came in small, medium, and large.  At about this point Erestor had wandered away to look at the bath robes.  I wanted to join him but Glorfindel was standing firmly in the way.  
  
I could tell that Annis was getting a bit frustrated explaining to Glorfindel that bras aren't something one can really buy on a whim- they have to be tried on so they fit right.  Glorfindel said, "Well it's not like she's going to be wearing it for very long so it doesn't have to fit perfectly!"  I think this was the wrong thing to say, since Annis seemed to be a bit of a feminist.  She narrowed her eyes and said that bras are meant to be comfortable, not to be gawked at by sexist males.  Glorfindel rubbed his forehead, tried to calm down, and quietly explained that his girlfriend was in high school, and what bra size to high school girls usually buy?  
  
I think this was an even worse thing to say, because Annis gave him a look that made it clear she thought him a dangerous perverted paedophile who should be locked away forever (which is about halfway right).  She snapped, "I don't think we have anything for you here," and turned her back.  We left after that and went to the sex shop a few blocks away.  Glorfindel purchased a pink vinyl bra with zippers in odd places, size small.  It looks about right to me, but I don't think Aralindë's bosom is quite that large.  She may have to fill it out with Kleenex.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 50%  
Cause of insanity: Girly underthings 100%  
  
February 11th  
  
Elrohir is being odd lately.  I mean, apart from the usual oddness like showing up in my bed unexpectedly and wearing a home-made tee-shirt that says "Elrohir's School of Awesomeness", which comes to be part of everyday life when dealing with Elrohir.  This time it's odd as in never being home during daylight hours.  I'm starting to worry, and I just know he's up to something.  And Glorfindel's up to something too.  Now that Aralindë's finished his Vanya costume, he's taken it upon himself to teach her the goings-on of his religion.  It's complicated and involves too many words that I can't pronounce, so I've stopped paying attention.  But just the way he talks about it makes me suspect that the Vanyar are secretly controlling the world, possibly through a mass marketing scheme of blonde hair dyes that don't work.   
  
I was going to ring dad and tell him that Elrohir's been disappearing on a regular basis, but then I stopped myself when I couldn't figure out what "regular basis" meant.  Does five days in a row count?  How many days make up a "regular basis" anyhow?  
  
Relative level of insanity: 40%  
Cause of insanity: Perplexing schemes 70%, peculiar idioms 30%  
  
February 12th  
  
It all started off with a strange telephone conversation with Ardlor today.  He claimed to be downtown working on a new movie.  I've not talked to him in months, so he must've been really bored on the set to think of contacting me.  But still I had nothing better to do so I went down to see him.  He was sitting on a lawn chair on the pavement beside a trailer that had his name on the door, though I almost didn't recognise him because his hair was blonde.  A girl with a long pigtail was handing him a Fanta.  
  
To paraphrase his very long explanation, some wacko director from Mirkwood is dong a made-for-telly movie about Ingwë, and Ardlor is starring.  It's a disaster so far.  The second AD was fired this morning, and there simply aren't enough blonde extras around to fill the entire palace set with adoring onlookers.  Just as he said that, an ornery-looking Elf came over and started ranting that he had just had a fight with someone named Gilistui over wardrobe issues and now they didn't have a Fëanor.  
  
The ornery one turned out to be Maethor, the director, which I learned when he turned to me with manic eyes and said, "You!  You can act!  You're my new Fëanor!"  I calmly said that no, I can't act, and no, I'm not his new Fëanor, but then I wished I hadn't said that because it set him off on some sort of wild rage.  He screamed that I'd been harassing him for the past week about getting a bit part and there's no way he'd let me escape now that he was desperate.  The whole scene really made no sense whatsoever until I saw Elrohir walk up a few feet away, wearing an orange traffic control vest and informing passing motorists that they can't come in this way.  
  
I can't accurately say what exactly happened next, but somehow, after all the artistic temperamental screaming ended, I wound up in the orange vest and Elrohir got his name stuck on a trailer door.  I think I'm a locations PA, even though I'm not sure what that is.  I hope it only involves telling cars they can't drive where I'm standing.  Right now I'm not really coherent enough to manage anything more than that.  
  
Relative level of insanity: too frazzled to tell  
Cause of Insanity: Maethor (in particular his eyes and voice) 100%  
  
February 13th  
  
I had to get up at 6 this morning to be on location by 7-30.  And I don't even want to work on this stupid movie!  I went to ask Glorfindel if he was interested in taking my place, but he wasn't in his usual spot on the sofa.  The telly was on without him though, which was strange.  
  
The entire day was spent walking around outside in the rain, wearing that stupid orange vest, while Elrohir sat in his trailer and went over the script.  He didn't even have to do anything, since they don't start shooting his scenes until tomorrow!  And I didn't get to see anyone famous while standing around getting wet and waving at cars.  Not even Ardlor.  He was inside on the set all day being dry and comfortable in his Ingwë costume.  
  
The rain stopped around eight, which was conveniently just as we were wrapping for the day.  By the time I got home it was quarter past nine, and I was just about to flop over onto the sofa and die of exhaustion when Elrohir bounced in, followed by Maethor.  They were doing some sort of impromptu Fëanor audition by way of watching the old tape of Elrohir's performance as Maeglin in our high school "Fall of Gondolin" production.  Maethor sat just where I was going to flop, asked me to get him a drink, and proceeded to watch Elrohir's crappy video with unbridled adoration.  "Brilliant!" he said.  "Fantastic!"  Elrohir grinned stupidly.  Maethor was about to get on his mobile to ring the script supervisor to tell her to increase Fëanor's role when Glorfindel came downstairs.  
  
Glorfindel was wearing his gold satin pyjama shorts and a matching shirt, unbuttoned.  Maethor took one look at his golden splendour and squealed, "You!  You're perfect!"  Glorfindel warily asked what for.  Maethor explained the whole stupid Ingwë movie with great enthusiasm.  Glorfindel looked disappointed and said he didn't want anything to do with it.  I think he was hoping for a role in a porno.  Maethor looked crushed.  The only actual Vanya in town snubbed his crummy movie-of-the-week.  Which is probably for the best, since I was reading over a bit of Elrohir's script and it's even worse than that movie about Aegnor somebody was making here last year.  I'd be embarrassed to be associated with it if I were Glorfindel.  Actually, I'm embarrassed that I'm associated with it, and I'm only a locations PA.  
  
After some pleading, Glorfindel reluctantly agreed to go down to the location tomorrow and have a look around to make sure things are sufficiently Vanyarish.  I am suddenly worried that this movie will turn out to be more horrible than it already is.  With Glorfindel in charge of quality control, there's bound to be far more female nudity and hedonistic drug use than is really necessary for a story about a revered religious figure.  
  
Relative level of insanity: too tired to tell  
Cause of insanity: probably this dumb Ingwë movie.  
  
February 14th (Melevellar)  
  
The telly was on again this morning when I got up.  I think it might be haunted.  
  
  
Glorfindel never showed up on set today, and Maethor was furious.  Someone who isn't me should try to explain to him that Glorfindel is highly unreliable and will only do things that appeal to him, and today being Melevellar, it's a given that he's going to spend the day being intimate with Aralindë.  So they had to shoot some big party scene without his expertise.  I didn't see any of it, but Elrohir claims he got to yell.  I was standing out in the alley in a puddle of muddy water at the time, up to my knees, holding up an extension cord so that it didn't get wet and electrocute me.  
  
Needless to say I was in no mood for Melevellar festivities when we got home, but Elrohir insisted on making me supper with candles and wine and everything.  He really needs a girlfriend; I am a poor substitute, and not very enthusiastic.  But still he made a whole supper with chicken from a tin, instant mashed potatoes, frozen veggies, and (for some reason) Nutella.  We ate surrounded by tea lights, and drank bad wine from Liquor World.  Elrohir told me all about how much he loves being Fëanor.  His favourite part is the costume with the fake Silmarils.  His second favourite part is being able to yell a lot and get paid for it.  
  
After supper we opened the presents from Grandma.  It was just as I feared.  She sent Elrohir a tub of hot pink liquid latex (for "fun sexy paint-on clothing!" as the package proclaims), a set of glittery blue handcuffs, and a chocolate bum on a stick.  He squealed in delight and immediately ran off to write a thank-you email.  I received a red lace thong, cherry-flavoured lube, and a bag of macaroni shaped like unmentionable body parts.  I couldn't think of anything decent to say in a thank-you email, so I told Elrohir to sign his email from both of us.  I did email Erestor though, and told him to come by some time soon for consumer product testing.  
  
Relative level of insanity: 40%  
Cause of insanity: shamelessly hypersexual grandmother 100%  
  
February 15th  
  
The telly was on this morning too, and I know Glorfindel didn't turn it on because he didn't even come home last night.  This is getting strange.  
  
Elrohir wore my new thong to work today, explaining that he needed small underwear to avoid panty lines in his Fëanor kit.   I sincerely hope it turns into one of those articles of clothing he never gives back.  
  
Glorfindel actually showed up on set today, though, while I was busy crawling around behind some dirty old crates looking for an electrical outlet.  Aralindë was with him.  She wanted a job as an extra.  Maethor took one look at her blonde hair and asked if she had any acting experience.  She said yes, she was Yavanna in her school Fiommereth concert.  Maethor must've though that was good enough, because he gave her a role as "adoring girl #2".  She has one line, which she rehearsed with Ardlor while Glorfindel was wandering around inspecting the sets.  
  
Shooting actually wrapped early today, at four, and call isn't until noon tomorrow.  To celebrate having more than 12 hours off, Elrohir and I rented a movie, The Ring.  I thought it was going to be about Sauron, but it was much, much worse.  Elrohir laughed at me for being scared, but then when the telly turned itself on while we were sitting on the sofa half an hour after the movie ended he screamed louder than I did.  
  
Glorfindel came running downstairs to see what all the screaming was about (he thought we were being murdered), saw the television, and said, "Oh, sorry, I forgot I had this thing on timer."  He had it set to turn itself on at midnight!  I asked why, but he only mumbled something incoherent and went back to bed.  I was just about to tell myself that Glorfindel is even stranger than Elrohir when Elrohir asked me if I though mermaids are afraid of crabs the way that people are afraid of spiders.  At that I reconsidered and confirmed that no, Elrohir is definitely stranger.  
  
Relative level of insanity: I don't even care any more.  
  
February 16th  
  
Maethor has convinced Glorfindel to be in the movie, playing the role of Finarfin.  He has no lines and no action.  Really, all he has to do is wear some fancy outfit and stand beside Fingolfin in the Darkening of Valinor scene and look scared and worried.  That shouldn't be too difficult, because Glorfindel is terrified of the camera.  He naturally looks scared and worried.  
  
Maethor has also asked Glorfindel to find him some songs for the extras to sing in the festival scene.  So Glorfindel and Elrohir were in the trailer most of the day coming up with traditional Vanyarin folk songs, some of which date all the way back to early this afternoon.  At first I was a bit worried that Maethor was taking advantage of Glorfindel, but now I'm convinced that he'll be getting what he deserves.  
  
February 17th  
  
The 3rd AD fired me from the movie today.  She said I'm too much of a distraction because I look exactly like Elrohir and keep putting the wardrobe and makeup people into a panic when they see me walking around out of costume ten minutes before a scene is supposed to roll.  Not that I mind being fired.  Actually, I'm sort of glad.  I didn't want to work on the movie in the first place, really.  And now I can spend more time doing things that I want to do.  Like checking my email.  
  
I found one from Legolas, from yesterday:  
  
\-----  
From: *Legolas* <legolas3000@royals.mk>  
  
Subject: On our way!!! :)  
  
Hi Elladan!  
  
We're leaving lorien today in boats! That's  
soooo kewl! I don't go out in boats much  
because my dad is afraid of themand we don't  
have any boats at home. I had a plastic dingy  
once but it got a hole in it form the driveway  
and my dad couldn't even fix it with a dingy  
fixing kit from the gas station.  It was for  
going in the pool only though with plastic  
paddles. I tried to use as a tent at the beach  
once but it fell on me and made the dog afraid  
and the dog did step on my foot with it's long  
claws!  It was a black dog and very heavy.  
  
These are motor boats and Boromir says the  
motors are very loud.  They are supposed to be  
fore fishing and Boromir says they probably  
smell like fish and have spiders in them.  But  
that's okay because Im going in a boat with  
Gimli and he does eat spiders sometimes, I saw  
him once!  It was a small brown spider that  
was small and with a white spot and had little  
eyes.  
  
Aragorn says he will phone you when the ring is  
dead!  Bye!  
  
***LEGOLAS***  
\-----  
  
Reading Legolas' emails always makes me wonder if he really thinks in sentences like that or if it just accidentally comes out this way when he's writing?  He sort of talks like that too, so I'm curious.


	10. Home for the Holidays: 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

February 18th  
  
I got to sleep in today, since Elrohir wasn't around to wake me up.  And I got to eat an entire package of bacon for breakfast, since Elrohir wasn't around to share.  Then I watched morning cartoons (alright, maybe they were noon cartoons) in peace because Elrohir wasn't around to bounce on the sofa and disturb my concentration.  Then I played Nintendo for a while because Elrohir wasn't around to play for me.  I got to level seven on Tetris.  Then I checked my email.  Then suddenly it was dark out.  
  
All in all, I don't think I did anything.  
  
February 19th  
  
I tried to actually do something today.  I tidied up the bedroom.  Elrohir leaves his clothes lying everywhere, so there was no lack of work.  We have a specially designated clothes storage unit, but for some reason Elrohir is completely incapable of using it.  He just tosses his shirts on the floor or on the chairs.  I think I should get him some hooks so that he can hang things randomly on the walls to keep them out of the way.  He might actually like that idea too.  
  
While tidying I found a teabag among a handful of pumpkin seeds in the bottom of a box of action figures.  It looked sort of old.  I put it aside to throw away, but I must've forgot to do that because the next time I saw it Elrohir was using it to make bedtime tea.  He didn't complain about the taste, so I didn't feel it was necessary to him where I found it.  That would just make him upset.  Or, more likely, proud of himself for doing something dangerous.  He's still proud of himself for using a ripped sanitary paper loo-seat cover in the Caras Galadhon airport fifty years ago.  
  
February 20th  
  
Glorfindel is done with the movie.  Or maybe he's just sick of having to be there every day.  Either way, he stayed home today and watched a Star Trek marathon on channel 8.  When it was over he whined about there being nothing better to watch, then rang the satellite company and signed up for the most expensive crap available. Someone who will probably have droopy trousers is calling round tomorrow to install it.  Glorfindel just isn't happy unless he can spend a ridiculous amount of money on doing nothing.  
  
February 21st  
  
We now have about 900 channels.  From what I can tell, 100 of them are foreign, 200 of them play the same crappy sitcoms and police shows we can get on regular television, 50 are movies that nobody wants to watch, another 50 are porn, 100 play round the clock amateur sports coverage from Gondor, 100 are weird specialty channels like the all-potato network or the quilter's nook, and the rest showcase a wide variety of nothing special.  
  
Three of the foreign channels are from Valmar.  One is news, one is community television, and the other plays shows that I think are supposed to be sitcoms but really make no sense at all.  I watched one, and all I could gather of the basic plot was that the wife had invited thirty people from her charity group over for supper and the husband was going mad trying to figure out how to feed them all.  But then partway through a bunch of the actors were dressed up as ancient Noldorin soldiers, fighting over a box with a flower in it.  I'm still not sure if that was part of the show or just a commercial for soap.  But it lasted about ten minutes.  
  
Then back to the main plot, some Noldorin fellow had showed up, and the husband and wife kept saying the word "tulka".  This appeared to be the biggest joke in the show, because the studio audience was roaring with laugher.  I didn't get it.  I asked Glorfindel what was going on, but he just snickered and said, "tulka."  Then the show ended with the wife chasing the husband around, hitting him on the head with a broom.  The credits rolled over a theme song that had absolutely nothing to do with the show's content.  
  
I didn't stick around to watch all of the variety show, which was on next and featured a host in a bad suit, a girls' football team, and some sort of endurance game where the contestants got a bucket of flour dumped on them if they failed.  Honestly, I think the entire Vanyarin culture must be insane.  This is even worse than television from Mirkwood.  
  
February 22nd  
  
The movie crew is moving up into the mountains to complete the shoot.  They won't be back until Thursday night, when the movie wraps.  And Elrohir is going with them.  This means that not only am I stuck here alone with Glorfindel and Aralindë for the weekend, but also for most of next week!  Without Elrohir around to distract me, who knows what I might accidentally learn about their relationship?  
  
I tried to sit outside in the front yard and read the paper for a while, but some Avarin kids kept yelling at me from across the street and asking if I was old enough to buy beer.  So I went around to the back deck and read for a while, but the neighbours were burning something that gave off a peculiar scent.  And since the front page story in the paper was about a rise in the population of endangered slugs in Fangorn National Park, there was really no incentive for me to stay out there.  So I went back inside and pretended not to notice that Glorfindel and Aralindë were "watching" (I use the term liberally) one of the porn channels.  
  
At this point the only thing left to do was play pinball.  I managed to get the high scores list all filled up with my name, except for third place, which is still Elrohir.  
  
February 23rd  
  
I rang grandpa this afternoon to try to waste some time talking about begonias again, but grandma said he had gone to the hospital with stomach pains.  She was fairly certain he had eaten a tainted egg.  So I was forced to talk to her about the Melevellar gifts.  She asked me if I'd used mine yet.  I said no, but only because I've not seen much of Erestor lately.  I told her Elrohir had eaten his chocolate bum, though.  
  
Then she asked to speak to Elrohir and I had to explain that he had run off with a film crew to make a made-for-telly movie about a person whose name half the actors can't even pronounce correctly.  The closest they can say is "Ingui".  Glorfindel spent a considerable length of time trying to explain that "Ingwë" is pronounced exactly like one would say "Ingwen", only you stop right before you get to the "N" part, but they didn't understand that.  Grandma agreed that the whole scenario sounded scandalous.  Then she asked when it would be on, so she could tape it.  She has no integrity.  
  
February 24th  
  
I got out of bed at two today, then played four consecutive hours of pinball.  I was unable to knock Elrohir's name out of third place.  When Glorfindel yelled up through the hole in the floor that he and Aralindë were going out to Red Lobster, I knew it was finally safe to go downstairs.  So I made some chocolate milk and pop tarts and sat and watched television.  Nine hundred channels and still nothing good was on.  I watched ten minutes of a nature show about lizards before I realised that Elrohir was probably counting on me to feed the iguana in his absence.  
  
I wasn't really sure how to feed an iguana, and all I could remember of Elrohir feeding it is him breaking off little pieces of a banana while the iguana sat on his stomach.  So I got the iguana, got a banana, and put it on my stomach.  Its claws poked me and it kept trying to walk away.  I'm not sure how Elrohir can stand it.  
  
The iguana ate half the banana.  I was amazed, since the iguana itself is about the size of a banana.  I guess it was hungry.  I probably should have fed it yesterday and the day before.  But it ate and ate until it was too fat to move on its own.  In hindsight, I probably should have let it sit on my stomach for an hour or two before trying to pick it up, because when I lifted it, it started wiggling and whipping its tail around.  Then it sicked up.  I got banana goo iguana vomit all over my sock.  
  
So then I put the iguana into a laundry hamper so it wouldn't wiggle any more and took it upstairs.  I managed to get it into the cage without much more wiggling.  It sat on its hot rock looking fat and lazy.  I left it there and went downstairs to watch more crappy television, and when I came back up to go to bed the iguana was skinny again and there was a large poo in the corner of the cage.  The iguana was scrambling at the glass trying to get out- I think it misses sitting on Elrohir's head.  But no way am I taking it out again.  It looks like it stepped in the poo.  Elrohir can wash it when he gets back.  
  
I hope Glorfindel's been feeding the cat.  It seems to like him best, and it's always in his room, so I hold him responsible for its wellbeing.  
  
February 25th  
  
Erestor rang and asked me to come round to the Legion for a drink with him and dad after work, so I went.  I'd never been to the Legion before.  And I'll probably never go again.  It was full of old people drinking beer and V-8 juice and watching golf on large-screen televisions.  I felt significantly out of place.  I think I was the only person there who didn't have an RRSP.  
  
Dad asked me what I'd been up to.  I didn't have much to say.  I told him the iguana sicked up on me, which made Erestor laugh so hard he choked on his Clamato.  I bet he wouldn't think it was so funny if an iguana was sick on him!  
  
Then dad ordered a pitcher of beer.  The waitress wouldn't let me have any, because I didn't have my ID with me.  So I had to sit and watch dad and Erestor get tipsy.  When they started arguing about what colour Rohan was on the inflatable globe in the den, I knew it was time to leave.  I made up an excuse about having to feed the iguana and then quickly left.  
  
As I was cutting up iguana food, this time a quarter of a banana put into an old sorbet lid to stick in the iguana cage, Aralindë asked me if I was doing anything tomorrow evening.  I stupidly told the truth and said, "no".  She said, "Oh goody, you can help us babysit!"  The story is that her parents and a group of their neighbours are going to a conference at the Ramada on buying homes in Valinor, and nine small children will all be left in Aralindë's care for the day at one of their houses.  Honestly, it sounds like a nightmare.  I'll have to think of some way to weasel out of it.  
  
February 26th  
  
I tried my best at weaselling.  I told Glorfindel I had a bad stomach ache (from eating a tainted egg), but he didn't believe me.  I was forced to make a miraculous recovery and get into the car.  We picked up Aralindë from school and drove out to the suburbs where people live in matching beige houses with bay windows and attached garages.  The streets make generally no sense and are all a "way", "walk", "bay", "crescent", or "court".  It took us a good twenty minutes to find number 53 Erynlas Gate.  Then Aralindë and I went inside while Glorfindel hid in the car and waited for all the parents to leave.  I think he's still afraid of Aralindë's dad, who threatened to do him some serious grief.  Candir may own a waffle shop, but he's built like a trucker.  
  
The house was overrun by tiny Elves.  One thirteen-year-old, one ten-year-old, two very small babies, and five that seemed about three or four.  They all had peculiar Quenya names like Alquamárë.  I asked Aralindë if it was trendy for yuppies to name their children in Quenya nowadays, and she said yes: all her friends have Quenya names, though they go by the Sindarin equivalents most of the time.  So Aralindë is really Arlin, and only her parents ever call her Aralindë.  And Glorfindel, but she only lets him because she thinks the way he says it is sexy.  Which I did not know.  I guess next time somebody rings and asks for Arlin, I'll have to remember not to tell them they have the wrong number like I've been doing all this time.  
  
The two oldest kids were easily fobbed off on video games, but the collection of four-year-olds seemed to want to do naught but climb on me.  Aralindë (I can't quite convince myself to think of her as Arlin after calling her Aralindë for so long, even though Arlin is much easier to type) of course called watching the babies, who kept falling asleep.  Like most females I know, she loves babies.  She spent the evening cuddling the more awake of the two, cooing nonsense to it.  She passed the other one on to Glorfindel.  
  
I wanted to tell her that this wasn't such a good idea, since Glorfindel has, for as long as I've known him, hated children.  He used to call Elrohir and me "turd one and turd two", and dangle our heads into the toilet.  Dad even has evidence of Glorfindel's cruelty preserved safely in Super-8 home movies.  I clearly remember seeing one in which Elrohir and I, age one, are sitting in stew pots on the stove, wrapped neck to toe in tensor bandages and looking very frustrated.  I only saw that film twice, in secret- dad refused to show it when mum was around because it made her even angrier than the one of Glorfindel tossing Elrohir, age six, into what looked like a deep snowdrift but turned out to be a mound of hard-packed snow at the Caradhras ski resort.  
  
But Glorfindel didn't look at all vicious toward these strange babies.  In fact, he looked downright ecstatic.  I hope this was only to suck up to Aralindë and make her feel better about the pregnancy, and not because he's decided he wants to father multiple wee terrors of his own any time soon.  
  
The evening passed uneventfully for Glorfindel and Aralindë, who sat on the sofa with sleeping babies deciding on what name they should give their own.  In the car on the way home they told me they picked Elairon Almárëo for a boy and Fairien Arafindë for a girl.  I was not there for the actual name-picking process, being at the time forced to play a game with the five little poofarts.  The game involved me very slowly and painfully trying to climb up the stairs while they pulled at my arms and legs and hair to stop me.  I can still feel their sticky little hands pawing at my clothes and hear their shrill squeals ringing in my ears.  
  
For my efforts I was paid about enough to buy myself lunch at a moderately priced restaurant.  After several seconds of careful thought, I decided the crummy pay certainly wasn't adequate for the work.  Babysitter wages really ought to be calculated in direct proportion to the number of four-year-olds to be sat.  If I ever have kids (yeah right!), I'll have to remember to pay the sitter accordingly.  
  
February 27th  
  
Since my entire body was still sore from struggling with those little demons last night, I opted to sit on the sofa and watch television for the morning.  I watched a scientific programme about the mating habits of wild animals.  It inspired me to spend the afternoon conducting a scientific observation of Glorfindel and Aralindë.  
  
The Elf male starts of by bringing his mate a bowl of grapes.  She smiles and gives him a kiss as a reward.  Obviously some sort of mating behaviour activity focused on winning her favour, and it seems to be working.  The scientific observer notes how she is now in the mood for snuggling.  Confident that she will be receptive to further fooling around, the male moves on to flirtatiously playing with her hair and clothing.  
  
But wait: there is a disturbance nearby.  Sensing danger, the male lifts his head and gazes around.  On the street outside, some shady youths are throwing pinecones at his car.  This is taken as a threat not only to his property, but also his authority and the safety of his family.  In an act of defence, he rushes out to confront them by baring his teeth, waving his arms, and shouting obscene phrases.  The younger specimens flee from his obvious alpha-male superiority.  Satisfied that his territory is safe, he returns to his mate on the sofa.  She is clearly impressed by this display of masculine power and is in the mood for further snuggling.  
  
After several minutes of affectionate flirting, the two Elves move on to a more secluded and private location to continue their pair-bonding sexual activity.  Even though it is evident that the female is already pregnant, the pair continues to mate on a daily basis.  Scientists speculate that this activity strengthens the bond between the two while also acting as incentive for the father to stick around and help care for the baby.  They also speculate that the male in this case is simply a horny little sod.  
  
For safety reasons, our crew will not observe the mating act itself.  Elves prefer to mate in private, and any intrusions are usually met with threats and ultimately violence.  Additionally, it is just plain icky, and this humble scientist has absolutely no desire to watch.  He will, however, continue to observe the pair once they come back downstairs for food.  
  
Uh-oh, it appears as if we've been spotted.  Once again the male resorts to intimidation tactics in an effort to scare away the observing scientist.  He charges towar  
  
Well, at least he didn't break the computer.  The scientific mind speculates that such over-the-top violence was due to the fact that he felt threatened in his home environment and was attempting to both protect and impress his mate.  One can assume that if he had been observed alone in a neutral environment, as has happened many times before, he would have settled for simply half-arsedly tossing an empty cola bottle in the general direction of the scientist, instead of going for the full-out bodily attack.  
  
In conclusion, this scientist believes that much more research could potentially be done into the mating habits of Elves.  The research could be made into a 12-part miniseries that aired on cable late at night.  It would be a hit in Gondor.  They'll watch any reality-based show down there, especially if it has to do with sex.  I think I might have to borrow dad's Mini-DV camcorder and get to work on this.  I could make a fortune!  
  
February 28th  
  
Elrohir got back late last night.  The first thing he asked was if I remembered to feed the Iguana.  I was truthfully able to tell him that I had.  Ardlor was with him.  Ardlor plans to stay with us until his flight back to Caras Galadhon on Sunday.  I'm not really sure why he can't stay at a hotel like a normal person, since there's honestly no room here and he ended up sleeping in the fort with Elrohir and the iguana last night.  I wonder if Rumil knows what he gets up to when he's off on tours and making movies?  
  
Anyway, I think we have plans to go out tonight.  Ardlor wants to see some of the clubs here, and Elrohir's with that idea.  And Erestor too, strangely.  I think he might be up to something sneaky, because he convinced Aralindë to come with us.  Of course if Aralindë goes that means Glorfindel's going to tag along too, even though he's frightened of gay clubs.  I asked Erestor what he was up to, but he just grinned and said, "Nothing," so I know that means he has something in mind.  ...Now that I think about it, I'm sure Elrohir is planning something too.  He has a funny look in his eye.  But knowing him, the plans are probably for something like making Jell-O with two different flavours of Jell-O powder mixed together.  
  
LATER: I think I have to write this down now while I remember and am still coherent enough to make angry comments.  To set the scene, Elrohir and Ardlor are currently giving the iguana a bath, while Glorfindel and Aralindë are doing something unmentionable with Erestor!  I should have known that was his plan.  He's been trying to get into bed with Glorfindel for years.  And since Glorfindel would never agree to something like this on his own, Erestor had to resort to sneaky tactics.  I think I'll have to gloss over the whole scam from the beginning.  
  
Elrohir, Ardlor and I arrived at the club first, waiting around outside in the car park until Glorfindel and Aralindë drove up two minutes later.  Glorfindel explained that Erestor had gone home to change and would be joining us soon, so we went in without him.  I think Elrohir must've been in on this plan somehow too, because he immediately dragged Aralindë out onto the dance floor, leaving Glorfindel by himself at the bar to be hit on by pretty much everyone.  Needless to say he was very thankful when Erestor showed up to save him.  
  
Unfortunately, Erestor then proceeded to make a scene, and his scene was loud enough so that everyone around the bar was soon under the impression that Glorfindel was his lover who ditched him in favour of some little rich girl.  Glorfindel yelled back and told Erestor to stop being an idiot, but nobody seemed to be on his side.  They all cheered in support of Erestor.  Elrohir brought Aralindë back right on time, and Glorfindel clung to her in desperation.  Erestor kept screeching.  
  
Then the inexplicable happened.  While Erestor was busy sobbing on Aralindë's shoulder (rather literally) that he hoped she and Glorfindel would be very happy together now that he was miserable, she decided that she felt sorry for him.  She said that she hadn't realised the two of them had a relationship, and felt awful for coming between them.  So when Erestor said all he wanted was one last night with Glorfindel, she agreed!  The crowd cheered.  Glorfindel hollered in protest.  The crowd booed.  Aralindë told him not to be such an inconsiderate complainer.  Erestor told her she was a very good girlfriend, and invited her to join in the festivities.  She said that sounded like fun as she and Erestor dragged Glorfindel out to the car park.  
  
I was about to go after Erestor and tell him exactly what I thought about this arrangement, but Elrohir and Ardlor decided it would be better for me to join them on the dance floor.  It took all of two minutes for Ardlor to start hinting at what happened last time the three of us were at a gay disco together.  It's very difficult to pretend you don't hear somebody when he's yelling in your ear.  I asked him what Rumil would think of all this, but he only assured me that they have a very liberal relationship.  Then he drank another Rev and spent the next half hour bouncing around with one hand on my bum and the other on Elrohir's hip.  But he bought me a Rev too (something Erestor notably did not do while he was here!) so I didn't really mind.  
  
We headed home after about two hours of loud, sweaty dancing and several more drinks.  By this time I'd firmly made up my mind to cheat on Erestor, since he was busy cheating on me.  Ardlor was very supportive of this idea and kept trying to get into my pants in the car on the way home.  I've never had sex in the back of a car before, and got pretty close, but then Elrohir almost drove into the median for watching us in the rear-view mirror and the panicked near-miss ruined the moment.  
  
When we got home Aralindë was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing Glorfindel's bathrobe, drinking tea, and reading the television guide.  She chipperly told us that Glorfindel was being uncooperative so they had to blindfold him and fix him to the bed with Elrohir's glittery handcuffs and did Elrohir mind?  All Glorfindel's screeching was giving her a headache so she was relaxing with some tea until Erestor got things under control.  Then Elrohir and Ardlor and I all stood around feeling a bit dumb for a minute, until Erestor yelled down through the hole that Glorfindel was being more uncooperative than ever and Aralindë had better come back up to calm him down.  
  
I'm not too sure exactly what ruined the sexy mood, but it was probably the mental image of Erestor and Aralindë naked together.  Then Elrohir lamely asked if we wanted to help him bathe the iguana, which he'd earlier in the day noticed smelled a bit dungy, and all remaining shreds of sexiness dissipated.  He and Ardlor are washing the iguana now.  I am sitting at the computer, frustrated at having to listen to Glorfindel's howling, Aralindë's reprimands, and Erestor's dirty comments through the wall.  I think I'm beginning to understand why homicides occur.  The one time I am really desperate to cheat on Erestor, and nothing is going my way!  
  
Oh wait... Elrohir just bounced in wearing the lacy red thong and the iguana on his head (only the iguana is on his head, not the thong).  He put on a loud CD and is now dancing on the tyre swing and singing along with "Some Of You Boys".  The music is almost loud enough to drown out the noises from the next room.  Ardlor is dripping wet and smirking in the doorway.  I think he gave Elrohir a bath along with the iguana.  He also appears to have found the tube of cherry-flavoured personal lubricant.  The night just took a turn for the better.  
  
      
the next day...  
  
Elladan is good.  hes walking around in the party and doing stuff.  Only Glorfindel gave thius a pot cookie and alot of alcohol so he doesnt seem to be himself.He just stopped inthe middle of the floor and is looking at his hands../now hes looking at his hair and blinking kind of a lot. I think he might be like stoned or somethin....cool...  
  
 This music is awesome...way bettr than the musict hat was here befor.  whoa hittign the shift button five times in a row makse this funny thing come up that i have to click on. Oh yeah this is Elrohir because Elladan you cant write in youre computer right now/ youre to out of it. but I know you write here everyday so I htought I should do it for youor something so tomrorrow you remember at the party you threw up on my cat and missed the can. ...how can you tyupe so fast, this is hard...I think ELladan writes what heppens everyday so Ill do that now. today Ardlor was still here and we wante dto have this awsome party so I invited like fifty peolpel from the film and they came over to hang out.  We were like drinking and sttuff and Elladn thought we would break the furninture or whatever so Ardlor gave him this drnik to make him less hyper, it was mostly rum, but the funny part was when glorfindl got him to eat this cookie that had like pot init. Me and Ardlor adn Glorfindel also ahd cookies but theyre not as stoned as Elladan, he ckeeps lloking at me... now hes yelling becase im yusing the computer.  now he wants to type something- this isElladan typing...   
my brain thinks it's being stung by the orangelight  
  
 cool    Elldan went away now to teh bathroom again.  he iS real sick maybe.  hE IS GOIN GTHRU ALL THES QENya bverb conjugatines and multiplecations tables so he doenst pass out.  I Should help so he doesnt die.Glorfindel can write in the compuret now./

Not sure what I'm supposed to do, but this is LL watching the computer while Elrohir assists Elladan in whatever he's doing on the bathroom floor.  Stupid kids can't hold their chems.  Elrohir's not watching anyway so I'm just going to turn this thing off.    
  
March 2nd  
  
I am hungover.  Really, really, really, really, really, really, really hungover.  In fact I don't even want to be typing this right now but Elrohir said he did my daily journal entry for me last night and the curiosity/fear got the better of me so I had to read it.  Not that it makes much sense.    
  
First order of business, I am going to kill Glorfindel for giving me that cookie.  It made my insides feel like they were sinking.  I have no idea how people can use that stuff recreationally, especially people like Aragorn who use it every day. I can honestly say that last night was the worst experience in my life.  Far worse than getting accidentally locked in the change room while the rest of my highschool P.E. class went for ice cream on the last day of school.  
  
Second order of business, I am going to spend the rest of the day on the sofa.  My head is still spinning and I still feel sick.  Elrohir had to take Ardlor to the airport alone, since I am in no condition to leave the house.  I hope he comes back soon, since he's very good at bringing me tea and egg mush and being a comforting presence now that I've firmly made up my mind not to have any further involvement with Erestor.  Also he's good to lean against so that I have to put no effort whatsoever into keeping my body in a sitting position.  
  
I would ring Erestor to tell him we're through, but the cordless is all the way up in the biff and I'm far too groggy to go up there and get it.  
  
March 3rd  
  
Elrohir is the best brother in the world.  Not only does he make me supper and hold my hair out of the way so it doesn't fall in my soup while I eat (still recovering from Saturday, still a bit dizzy and sick), but he also takes it upon himself to fix personal problems as well.  I should get him a present.  And possibly start feeling guilty for all the unkind things I've though or said about him in the past.  I know my journal is full of them, and I feel a bit ashamed of it.  
  
Elrohir broke up with Erestor for me.  He dressed up in my clothes, fixed his hair like mine, and went down to Erestor's office this morning for a chat.  If Erestor was too thick to tell that he was talking to Elrohir and not me, then he deserves to be broken up with.  I must remember to commend Elrohir for braving the stick-on labels.  I would have lost my nerve.  But he did it, and Erestor is now out of the picture.  He says Erestor cried, and even though I don't believe that, it was kind of him to think of saying so.  
  
If I felt like getting dressed I would go downstairs and help him put up with Aragorn's friends, who converged on the house about an hour ago with something that Halbarad calls a "business proposition".  I'm well aware that "business proposition" is code for "idiotic scheme", so I'm not too keen on getting involved.  I think it involves our car, though, because they keep going outside and saying, "Four would fit in there for sure."  
  
Now they're hauling sleeping bags and beer coolers out to the front lawn, along with various items that I recognise from my and Elrohir's stash of camping things.  I don't know what's going on, but it can only be bad.  Or possibly headache-inducing.  I'd better go find out. 


	11. From Rohan With Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

* * *

 

Dear dad-  This is actually the second postcard I've tried  
to write to you, the first one being completely illegible since  
I was writing in the car and we were for some reason driving  
down a gravel road at the time.  I just wanted to let you  
know that I'm still alive despite the headache that this trip  
has been so far.  I know I only left four hours ago, but  
already I'm wishing I hadn't. The feeling started not far  
outside the city limits- I'm riding with Halbarad because  
Elrohir opted to fill our car with three of the loudest of  
Aragorn's friends and dub it the "party wagon". Anyhow,  
we had just left the city, and Halbarad kept making  
worried faces, as if something were wrong with the car.  I  
started to worry too when he pulled into a petrol station on  
the highway.  But then he got out, rummaged around in his  
duffle bag, and proceeded to gaffer tape a Gondorian flag  
to the hood of his El Camino.  He got back in with a satisfied  
smile.  It just went downhill from there.  I won't even comment  
on the music.  Anyhow, I'll probably write again soon because  
there's nothing better to do.  --Elladan  | Elrond Peredhel  
307 Or Herentië  
Imladris  
T2K 2B7  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  


You were right.  There are 122 oil donkeys between Rivendel  
and the Highway 219 turnoff.  I counted them, even though  
Halbarad kept telling me not to.  The counting annoyed him  
for some reason.  But his singing along with Limp Bizkit  
annoyed me, so I figure it was a fair trade. We've stopped at  
six different petrol stations so far and have only been gone  
nine hours.  I think everyone is sorry they invited Elrohir to  
come along with the convoy.  His frequent peeing is slowing  
down the entire operation.  I've tried to talk to him about his  
ten-litre-a-day Diet Dr. Pepper habit, but he doesn't listen.  
I should get him to give you a ring once we get to a motel or  
something- maybe you can talk some sense into him.  Expect  
another post card soon.  Postage in these parts is cheap and  
plentiful.  --Elladan  | Glorfindel  
3726 Hithui Ave.  
Imladris  
T4T 0Z4  
  
---|---  
  
* * *

  


  


Dear Grandpa, I think you'll be able to sympathise  
with my situation.  You see, Elrohir and I (well,  
more like just I- Elrohir doesn't seem to mind)  
have been hijacked by Aragorn's friends and are  
currently on a road trip to Minas Tirith to take  
place in some sort of anti-Mordor demonstration.   
So far it involves a lot of beer and incredibly  
loud music.  We've stopped for the night at a  
cheap motel in a hick town near Moria and the  
party is in full swing.  We've been driving for  
eight hours and I'm dead tired, but I can't  
sleep because I'm sharing a (double) room with  
Elrohir and three others and they're in the middle  
of a rousing game of drunken Go Fish. I'd like to  
escape to the bathroom for a long hot soak in the  
tub, but unfortunately our motel room door handle  
is broken and there's no shower curtain, so privacy  
is at a minimum.  I suddenly show up on your  
doorstep one of these days, you'll know it's  
because I've ditched the others and caught the  
first plane your way.  Love, Elladan. 

| Celeborn  
835 King Amroth Boulevard  
Caras Galadhon, Lórien  
G1A 1B4  
Rhovanion  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


You'll note by the picture on this postcard that I am now in  
Isengard National Park.  We are staying in a bad motel (big  
surprise).  After driving all day I was really looking forward  
to a quiet night of going to bed early, but you know how it  
goes when Elrohir is involved.  He and Halbarad and a few  
others have gone off to play on the highway.  They stole some  
orange construction barricades from the roadside and used  
them to block off one entire lane so that they could play  
Frisbee on the asphalt.  From the sounds of things, the passing  
motorists are none too impressed.  If we all get arrested for  
mischief, you know what happened and I'll be counting on you  
to tell the judge I was not involved in any way. | Glorfindel  
3726 Hithui Ave.  
Imladris  
T4T 0Z4  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Dear dad, Here I am in scenic Isengard.  Originally I was a bit  
worried about staying here, what with all the terrorists and all,  
but Halbarad seems confident that they are all concentrating  
their efforts to the south and we should be fine.  I wanted to  
buy you a souvenir from the motel gift shop, but unfortunately  
all they sold were crappy little plastic Tower of Orthanc key  
chains and inflatable palantir beach balls, so you'll have to make  
do with this postcard.  Elrohir says hello too- he'd write  
something himself, but he somehow got a pylon stuck on his hand  
(don't ask).  Lots of love, Elladan (and Elrohir). | Elrond Peredhel  
307 Or Herentië  
Imladris  
T2K 2B7  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  


Arwen- As promised, I am writing to let you know that Aragorn  
is safe, and that I gave him that thing you made.  I told him to  
phone you too, but he probably won't because he's busy doing  
something that involves being a pompous arse.  Maybe you should  
try him on his mobile one of these days.  But anyway, he's  
perfectly fine.  In dire need of a shower and clean clothes,  
but that's about par for the course.  We met up with them all this  
morning- Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.  We just narrowly missed a  
large party of Ents, but Aragorn says he took some photos for you,  
since he knows you've always wanted to see Ents.  They made  
quite a mess of Isengard (the Ents, not Aragorn et al).  The  
highway was nigh impassable.  I'll write again when we get to  
Gondor-- Elladan.  | Arwen  
307 Or Herentië  
Imladris  
T2K 2B7  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Dear Bilbo,  Since I'm sure nobody else will take the time to do  
this, I thought I'd be the responsible one and let you know that  
Frodo and his friend Sam have gone off on their own for  
Mordor. Aragorn seems to think they'll do alright though, so I  
wouldn't worry too much. They passed through Lórien a while  
back and were equipped for the journey by my grandfather,  
who is rather keen on safety and likely loaded them up with  
all sorts of things they won't ever use.  So even if Mordor is  
dreadful this time of year, they'll be alright.  Yours, Elladan  | Bilbo Baggins  
na Elrond Peredhel  
307 Or Herentië  
Imladris  
T2K 2B7  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Dear Grandma; In his anger, Aragorn is forcing me  
to write to you and say that the camping tarp he  
borrowed, the one that was outside rolled up against  
the garage, was full of bees.  We tried to camp out  
last night on our way to Paths of the Dead, but it  
was a fiasco.  Aragorn hauled the tarp out of the car  
he hired in Edoras, undid all the bungees, grandly  
unfurled it, and was soon attacked by bumble bees.  
Elrohir got one stuck in his ear.  It was not a  
pleasant experience.  We all ran back to the vehicles  
to escape the bees, only to see that Elrohir's iguana  
had stepped on the power lock button and locked us  
out of the Topaz.  We had to cram into the hired car  
until the bees went away, then try to coax the iguana  
onto the unlock button.  Not an easy task.  I just  
knew the iguana was going to cause some sort of  
hassle.  I told Elrohir to leave it at home with the cat  
in Glorfindel's care, but he wouldn't listen.  Maybe  
being locked out of the car and surrounded by bees  
will teach him his lesson for next time. Love, Elladan  | 

Galadriel  
835 King Amroth Boulevard  
Caras Galadhon, Lórien  
G1A 1B4  
Rhovanion   
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Dear dad, We arrived today at Paths of the Dead National  
Historical Site, right on schedule (according to Aragorn,  
though I don't think he really has a schedule).  Only  
trouble is, nobody realised it costs $12 to go through, and  
they don't allow cars.  So if we want to pass through,  
we'll have to leave our vehicles here and walk.  Aragorn is  
furious with Elrohir for suggesting we come this way.  So  
are the others.  I'm not too concerned, since I'm not really  
attached to the Topaz and don't mind abandoning it in the  
car park, but Aragorn refuses to abandon his hired car  
because then he won't get his deposit back.  It's shaping  
up to be a long argument, but really, we don't have any  
other choice now that we've come this far.  We'll have to  
hitchhike to Minas Tirith, but at this point I've given up  
caring what happens.  As long as I live through it I think  
I'll be alright.  Love, Elladan.  | Elrond Peredhel  
307 Or Herentië  
Imladris  
T2K 2B7  
Eriador  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Elrohir and I, with a group of others, have just  
gone through the Paths of the Dead National  
Historical Site in north Gondor, and I must say  
it's not an experience I'd like to repeat.  It  
was by far the creepiest place I've ever been,  
so I thought I'd do my best to share that  
creepiness via this postcard.  Supposedly that  
white blur on the left side next to the exit is  
some form of ghostly activity, at least  
according to the fellow who works in the gift  
shop, but that's always open to interpretation.  
But, now that we're through, our plan is to  
take a tour bus down to the coast and then  
arrive in Minas Tirith by boat.  I'm not  
too sure on the logistics of it, since last I  
looked Minas Tirith was quite a ways inland,  
but our mate Aragorn's arranging the whole  
thing so I just smile and nod.  It's one of those  
trips... Cheers, Elladan.  | Rúmil and Ardlor  
410 - 127 3rd Ave SE  
Caras Galadhon, Lórien  
G7K 1M8  
Rhovanion  
  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  


Dear Círdan-  You'd be very proud of me.  I'm on a  
boat.  Or a ship.  I'm not really sure what the  
difference is, but I'm sure you'd know.  You can  
look at the picture- it's a lot like the ones on the  
front of this postcard.  I was a bit seasick to begin  
with, but things seem to have calmed down now and I  
think I'm getting the hang of this.  If I ever come  
back to university, I might even be able to take that  
sailing class you recommended. I sure hope Aragorn  
has taken a sailing class.  He proposes we go up the  
Anduin to Minas Tirith!  In these boats (or ships)!  
He'd better know how to steer.  If we crash on the  
riverbank it might put me off boats and rivers  
forever.  That happened to Glorfindel- he had a  
rough time over from Valinor, so now he won't even  
go in an inflatable dinghy.  Yours, Elladan.  

| 

Grey Havens University  
Attn: Círdan  
Administration Building  
Room 202  
550 College Rd.  
Mithlond  
L-30935   
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Dear Glorfindel, We are now in Minas Tirith.  Things are  
much worse here than they showed on the news before  
we left.  Aragorn seems confident that everything will be  
fine, but I'm not so sure. We arrived in the middle of  
some sort of attack and managed to get that sorted out,  
but something tells me that actually going to Mordor as  
per the plan will be somewhat worse.  Honestly, I'd  
rather stay here until this war is over.  I'm sick of  
sleeping outside.  Aragorn and Elrohir are sleeping in the  
tent tonight, since Aragorn for some reason refuses to  
act decently until he's King (he has a long way to go!),  
but I made for a hotel.  I don't see the sense in  
depriving myself of civilisation for the next few days  
when there are perfectly good lodgings right here.  I  
wonder if they'd mind if I chickened out and sped  
home?  --Elladan  | Glorfindel  
3726 Hithui Ave.  
Imladris  
T4T 0Z4  
Eriador  
  
---|---  
  
  


* * *

  


  
  


  
Dear Dad-  This is it.  We're leaving for Mordor tomorrow  
morning.  Elrohir claims he's not worried, only the iguana  
is, so that's why he keeps hugging it and petting it and  
saying everything will be fine.  I think he's fibbing,  
because I'm sure worried.  All things considered, I don't  
think now would be an opportune time to die.  Perhaps  
because I've not really done anything with my life yet.   
If I live through this, I think I'll have to make a  
resolution to do more relevant things.  But, in the event of  
death, I'd like you to have all the ornamental type things  
I've collected over the years, because I know you like  
them.  You can tell Glorfindel he can have my movies and  
CDs. As for Erestor, you can tell him that I don't really  
hate him.  It's just that he's sort of a jerk sometimes and  
I really wish he'd be more considerate when it comes to  
relationships.  But you can give him my love, and Glorfindel  
and Arwen as well, and know that I will be thinking of  
everyone on the way to Mordor. Love, Elladan.  | Elrond Peredhel  
307 Or Herentië  
Imladris  
T2K 2B7  
Eriador  
  
---|---


	12. The Elladan Show: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

 July 1st   
  
To sum things up and quickly gloss over the events of the past few months, the war against Mordor is now over and the One Ring has been destroyed. Everyone is in Minas Tirith for the wedding tomorrow. Arwen is here (of course), along with Dad, Glorfindel, Aralindë, Erestor, Grandma, and Grandpa. Aragorn is the King of Gondor now. There is serious talk of moving to Valinor. It's all incredibly strange. Really, the only one I can count on to behave in a familiar way is Elrohir. Which isn't saying much. I think my life may have taken a turn for the worse now that I have to rely on Elrohir's talking to the iguana as a sign of homey comfort.   
  
I spent most of today helping Arwen, who is this close to having a stress overload, do last-minute weddingy preparations like decide how the napkins should be folded (fans or swans?) and choose whether to have confetti or bubbles. Aragorn chose bubbles. Then it was my job to keep her from noticing that the bubbles Aragorn chose were "Party Blow" brand. The label sticker made Legolas and Elrohir giggle girlishly. I also had to take grandpa to the nearest mall and help him pick out shoes. He was looking for something along the lines of "a nice type of shoe [he] could wear to Arwen's wedding, and perhaps to have supper with Elrond, and then also maybe to wear on the plane to Valannor." Unfortunately none of the shops had shoes for those specific purposes, so he ended up just buying brown lace-ups that look exactly like his old shoes.   
  
So now all that's left to do is organise my outfit for tomorrow. I was really hoping that I'd be able to go out and buy something new and classy, but unfortunately dad had the annoying foresight to bring stupid formal Elf clothes for Elrohir and me. I tried pleading with him that nobody wears those dumb outfits any more, and that even Glorfindel would probably be wearing one of his of rayon suits. But dad said no, Glorfindel was wearing some fancy new Vanya costume that Aralindë made, and that the least I could do was get dressed up and look nice for one day for my sister's wedding. Noldo costume it is, then. I can't wait to get to Valinor and prove to him that nobody ever wears these lame robes any more. I have seen satellite telly from Tirion. They all wear regular trousers and shirts like everybody else. I distinctly remember that Finarfin was wearing a button-up coat and tie for his Arfiommereth speech last year, not some ugly velvet drapey thing.   
  
July 3rd   
  
After some fuss and much bother, Arwen and Aragorn were married yesterday. There were even television crews live on location to broadcast the event all over Middle-earth. I hope they show it in Valinor, too. This seems like the sort of thing that mum would probably want to see.   
  
I woke up yesterday morning to the sound of Arwen and dad arguing. Dad has the hotel room next to mine, so I could hear clearly through the wall. Arwen was whining on about how she was sure Elrohir was going to wreck something somehow. Dad was telling her she should have faith in him, and that he wouldn't do anything deliberately, but Arwen ended with, "Well it's my wedding and I don't want him ruining things!" Ten minutes later dad came into my room. He put me in charge of minding Elrohir. He said, "I know Elrohir means well, but sometimes trouble just happens." And he's right. Trouble is attracted to Elrohir like tornadoes to trailer parks. So I was put in charge of pre-emptive strikes against said trouble. He gave me strict instructions that the iguana was not to attend the ceremony, supper, or reception.   
  
I took Elrohir for a walk about the hotel to try to work off some energy. I let him bring the iguana to try to get all of the day's iguana-handling out of his system. I suppose it was my job to make sure he didn't impale all the complimentary Gummi Bears on the complimentary almonds, but I did let him act out a few gruesome Gummi Bear deaths to get that out of his system too. Then I ushered him out of the banquet hall and let him amuse himself by taping "OUT OF ORDER" signs on all the hotel's Coke machines.   
  
At noon it was time to change into our dumb-looking Elf clothes and help Aragorn get dressed in his equally dumb-looking Númenórean clothes for the ceremony. He was rather on-edge and ornery. I blame that on the fact that he'd had nothing to drink or smoke in the past week, for fear of not being able to perform on his wedding night. Then I forced Elrohir to say goodbye to the iguana and stick it in the bathroom for safekeeping, and we all went down to the lobby where the guests and television crews were waiting. The place looked rather like it had exploded with flowers, ribbons, and tulle. My guess is that Arwen did the decoration design herself. We found Legolas standing forlornly in the middle of the aisle, wondering whether he should sit on the bride's side or the groom's side, since although he was Aragorn's friend, he had also dated Arwen very briefly back in December. He and Elrohir eventually decided to compromise by sitting beside dad for a while, then getting up and switching to the other side halfway through. I sat beside dad on Arwen's side and pretended I didn't know them.   
  
Arwen sniffled throughout the entire ceremony. She's lucky she was wearing waterproof makeup. Long speeches were given, rings were exchanged, she and Aragorn kissed, and lo and behold, they were married. Half the women in attendance looked misty-eyed and dreamy. Half the men looked bored out of their minds. Elrohir fidgeted. Frodo fell asleep. But it eventually ended, and we were allowed to go back to our rooms for an hour to freshen up before the supper. I shed my Elf robes gladly at that point. So did Elrohir and Glorfindel, and even grandma, I noticed when we got to the banquet hall. In fact, only dad, Arwen and Aragorn were left in their fancy outfits.   
  
After many long speeches and toasts and kisses between the newlyweds, we finally got to eat. Then there was a dance. A cheesy band played top stereotypical hits of the ages while old people shuffled around the floor with drinks and pastries in their hands. I had to dance with Elrohir, then Legolas, then Arwen, then Elrohir again, then Merry and Pippin at the same time, then Aralindë (who caught Arwen's bouquet and refused to let it go), then Legolas again, then grandma (twice). Then I sat down and had a drink with dad while watching others. The whole thing went on for hours until gradually the guests started to leave. At this point grandpa was starting to look a bit exhausted. Unfortunately, grandma and Glorfindel were busy doing some wild swing dancing (from the looks of the dance floor they were the only ones who knew how to do it properly) and he didn't want to leave without her. So I took him to the lobby café for a cup of coffee to keep him awake.   
  
Three cups of coffee and a gradpaesque rant about changing times later, we were back in the banquet hall. Less than a third of the guests were still around, Arwen was handing out pieces of cake to those who were leaving, and Elrohir and Legolas were politely trying to shake off a horde of young girls. The only thing missing was grandma and Glorfindel. This of course immediately sent warning bells ringing loudly, since I'd been watching them with a certain element of disgust all evening, drinking too much and touching each other inappropriately ever since Aralindë went to bed two hours earlier. So I sat grandpa down next to dad and told him to stay there while I went to do an emergency assessment of the situation.   
  
I hurried up to the twelfth floor of the hotel and knocked on grandma's door hoping for the best. The worst was ascertained when Glorfindel, wearing nothing visible, opened the door just enough to peek out. I tried to remain calm when I asked him what in the world he was doing. He said, "Galadriel and I are having a conference." Still doing my best to be calm, I asked, "Glorfindel, did you have sex with my grandmother?" He paused a moment before saying, "Well yes, but-" I cut him off and said, "I don't want to hear it." Then I pulled the door shut and hurried back down the corridor. He opened the door again and, poking his head out, yelled, "I didn't do it tonight!"   
  
So he has slept with grandma in the past! As if that's supposed to make things better! I ran to the lift in an attempt to hurry back to the banquet hall and prevent grandpa from coming upstairs and witnessing the scene, but as luck would have it he was just coming up as I was waiting to go down. I did my best to explain that we had to go back to the banquet hall for Arwen's sake because it was her special day and she wanted family to be there. He grumbled that he wanted to sleep. However, he was too tired to shove me out of the way, so we ended up going back down to the hall. I stuck him in the chicken dance circle, where Elrohir was teaching a group of children all the proper movements in the correct sequence. Then he danced for a while with Arwen, who kept on sniffling. I was able to keep him in the hall for another half hour before the band quit playing and the reception was officially over. Another twenty minutes was spent saying goodbye to the remaining guests. Then we all went up to the top floor. I bought all the remaining time I could by telling grandpa we had to escort Arwen and Aragorn to their room at the opposite end of the corridor, but that was it. Eventually I was forced to let him go to his own room.   
  
I took the key and opened the door first, sincerely hoping that Glorfindel had found the decency to leave. I saw that the bed had been made up somewhat, and was almost relieved until I heard laughter coming from the bathroom. Grandma and Glorfindel were in the Jacuzzi (grandma was at least wearing a swimsuit, or at least a swimsuit top), sharing a joint and drinking champagne straight from the bottle. They smiled at us. Grandpa looked a bit confused. Glorfindel patted the edge of the tub and said to him, "Come on in, it's quite nice." I muttered to grandpa, "They're a bit mad, I think. You can stay in my room if you want." But grandpa only shook his head and sat down tiredly on the bathroom stool. Then grandma said, "Elladan, we have things to discuss with Celeborn. Would you mind?" I did not mind. In fact I was glad to leave the awkward scene. I hurried back down to my own room, where Elrohir, Legolas and Pippin (he is as much trouble as they are, I have come to realise) were innocently trying to figure out what the iguana's favourite food is. On my bedspread of all places. I'm not sure why they couldn't have done this in Elrohir's room, but oh well. They are good for a diversion, if nothing else.   
  
I spent half the night, after cleaning mushy banana and cat food off the blankets, worrying about what grandma and Glorfindel are up to that requires having a talk with grandpa. Surely they're not expecting him to actually approve of their scandalous behaviour? I mean I know he spends an awful lot of time complaining that grandma is an insatiable nymphomaniac who ought to have four husbands instead of just one, but I don't think he's ever been really serious about it. And why can't grandma and Glorfindel go about having a regular secret affair like everybody else? Don't they have any respect for the sanity of others?!   
  
I couldn't come up with any answers last night, nor this morning either when we all met for breakfast together. But grandpa was being unprecedentedly nice to Glorfindel, treating him like a respected business partner or something, so I'm starting to worry that maybe he wasn't really joking with all those "four husbands" comments. Though on the other hand Glorfindel had gone back to inappropriately touching Aralindë while touching grandma in a merely friendly manner, so I have no idea what's going on there. The four of them ended up deciding to go to the cinema together after breakfast, leaving me confused and annoyed. I might have to outright ask grandma or Glorfindel what the deal is tonight after the gift-opening supper since this being silently observant tactic is sure getting me nowhere.   
  
July 4th   
  
The gift opening last night was about as boring as any family gathering can possibly be. We all got to sit around and watch Arwen coo and sigh over silverware and wine crystal while Aragorn stood beside her in a way that indicated he was posing for potential photo opportunities. I never did get to ask grandma what was going on with Glorfindel, since she was too busy keeping grandpa under control. The lack of sleep from the previous night caught up with him around six, and he was stubborn and ornery from that point on. We were served salmon at the post-gift-opening supper, but all he wanted was a poached egg. He refused to eat anything else. Halfway through the supper I distinctly heard grandma hiss, "Oh for Valar's sake, Celeborn, quit moaning and eat your damn salmon!" He quit moaning, but from the look of his plate afterward he didn't eat a bite of the damn salmon. I decided it would be best just to leave them alone.   
  
He stayed in his room all day today to recover, and grandma stayed with him. Glorfindel took Aralindë to the mall to buy new clothes. Yesterday when they went to the cinema she saw all the new summer fashions in the girly shops and was dead pleased to note that this summer, babydoll halter tops and incredibly low-rise jeans are in, meaning she won't have to buy actual maternity wear. I asked her if she thought this meant the fashion industry was catering to highschool pregnancy victims, but she only rolled her eyes and said, "As if! I graduated from highschool two weeks ago!"   
  
July 5th   
  
We had yet another family day today. The past five days have all been "family day". Really I'd be much happier if I were left to my own devices, but Arwen is milking this wedding nonsense for all it's worth and everyone is doing what she says. And today she announced we'd have a family outing to the Flamingo World Waterslide Park east of the city.   
  
Now the thing is, Arwen doesn't even like waterslides. So I had no idea why she'd want to go to Flamingo World. Elrohir's always wanted to go on a family vacation to the Flamingo World near Mirkwood, but she's always vetoed that. I spent all morning wondering why she would want to go water sliding, and all the drive there, until we actually arrived and changed into our swimmers. And then, as we gathered on the deck, it dawned on me. Arwen only wanted to show off her new bikini. Preferably in an environment where Elrohir would be too distracted to think of snapping the straps every time she turned around.   
  
Elrohir and Legolas, whom he'd brought along, immediately took off to discover trouble in one form or another. Aragorn stared after them wistfully as they sped off to the tube rental window, but remained standing dutifully beside Arwen. She suggested they go sit in the shallow pool, the one that's surrounded by flowers. He said, "Sure, that sounds like fun," though something in his voice told me he didn't mean it.   
  
Dad put on his sunglasses and lay down on the nearest lounger. He was wearing a speedo. I was forced to inch away and pretend I didn't know him. Then Erestor lay down on the next lounger. He was wearing saggy old shorts and had a bad sock tan. I inched further away. But when Erestor covered his entire body from the ankles up with a towel and explained that he was going to try to get rid of his sock tan, I knew it was time to leave altogether. I didn't want to be around when little kids saw them and ended up having their childish fantasies of Elves being mysterious and exotic crushed forever.   
  
I tried to escape to the refreshment hut, but Glorfindel and Aralindë were already there. And trying to get anyone's attention, even the bartender's, when Glorfindel is wearing a swimsuit is just not feasible. No matter where he goes, no matter what he's wearing, people will always stare at him. But when he's in his trendy surfer shorts, the attention is magnified to destructive proportions. I could stand there all day and yell, "Hey, I'm an Elf too, pay attention to me!" but it would do no good. So naturally I did not do that. I did, though, step away from the hut just in time to be grabbed by Elrohir and Legolas as they ran by. Elrohir yelled, "Comeonelladanweregoingtothe BIG slide!"   
  
The big slide turned out to be the one that shoots you off a twelve foot drop at the end. I did not go on it a second time. Instead I went and sat in the hot tub. Then I went and sat in the shallow pool with Aragorn and Arwen. People were staring at her too, which made Aragorn both proud and smug at the same time. I didn't really care since the attention to her wasn't preventing me from ordering anything to drink. Eventually Elrohir and Legolas came to join us too, looking a bit waterlogged and exhausted. Then people stared at Legolas. I suppose he is hazardously attractive, in his own goofy sort of way. The people stared even more when he and Elrohir started acting strangely, poking each other with their noses and making peculiar high-pitched sounds. An innocent bystander asked me if they were displaying normal Elvish behaviour patterns. I had to assure her that no, they were just being idiots. Then Elrohir punched me in the shoulder and told me I was "wrecking the game".   
  
Some hours later, after Elrohir got himself kicked out of the park for pantsing Legolas in the kiddie pool and then taking him down to the Lost and Found to file a report for lost dignity, Arwen decided it was time to leave. She was getting somewhat tired of the tabloid photographers and television news people crowding around. Apparently the King and Queen of Gondor going to a waterslide park is big news, and she didn't want images of Aragorn grabbing her chest to appear on national telly. So we went to collect dad and Erestor. If possible, they were looking slightly more embarrassing than when I left them. Dad had fallen asleep and had neglected to turn himself over, so he was sunburned pink on the front but still quite white on the back. And Erestor had gone in the pool, so his swimmers were wet, saggy and clingy, leaving very little to the imagination. I hurried them into the changeroom as quickly as possible so that they wouldn't be seen by Arwen's paparazzi followers.   
  
The rest of the day was spent in my room by myself on the computer. I've had enough family days to last for a good long while now. Maybe if I tell them I'm suffering from an excitement overload they'll leave me alone and I won't be expected to go to Aragorn and Arwen's housewarming barbeque tomorrow.   
  
July 6th   
  
I had to go to the barbeque. It was a small casual affair combined hazardously with hot sunny weather. That meant some people decided they didn't have to wear shirts.   
  
It's never the people you want to see shirtless who go walking about in only their cutoffs. No, it's always the embarrassing people. Dad, Erestor, Gandalf and Gimli come immediately to mind. From what I remember they all had shirts when they arrived at the barbeque, but somehow they shed their clothing partway through after everyone had been given a hamburger and a can of Kokanee. I sat on the patio steps and watched the festivities with a high level of disinterest. At some point Frodo, poking disinterestedly at a paper plate of coleslaw, came and sat next to me. He helped come up with a list of who of all people at the barbeque should be allowed to go shirtless, and who should not.   
  
Arwen, Aralindë, grandma and Éowyn, we decided, should not go shirtless because they are girls and would cause a disastrous distraction. However, they might be allowed to wear bikini tops in non-public environments.   
  
Elrohir, Legolas, Merry and Pippin could in theory go shirtless because, even though they are sort of skinny and pasty white, they have strange enough personalities to make the look work. A better fashion choice for them though might be just wearing a button-up shirt and keeping it unbuttoned. A few months ago Aragorn would have been able to go shirtless, because he was sort of surly and had the right attitude. But now he acts more like a politician, so he has to keep his clothes on. Same goes for Éomer.   
  
Anyone with a full beard should not go shirtless ever. That means Gandalf and Gimli. They ought to remain covered at all times.   
  
I don't know Faramir at all, so I couldn't make a call on this one. He looks fair enough, but Frodo assured me that while he's a nice fellow, he's not exactly cool. He sounds a lot like grandpa, actually, from Frodo's description. So he'd better keep his shirt on. Grandpa too. Frodo said Sam should be allowed to go shirtless, but I'm not sure why. Sam's sort of pudgy and looks to me like the sort that should stay dressed. But again it was Frodo's call, since I don't know Sam at all either.   
  
Glorfindel is allowed to go shirtless. In fact, he should probably be shirtless all the time. Unfortunately, that's not the case; he's almost always fully dressed. Which is completely unfair. Here all the pasty white Noldor (and Sindar, who look rather like pale washed-out versions of Vanyar) have to actually work at getting a tan to look half decent in a swimsuit, while he can keep himself fully covered at all times and then emerge once or twice a year with his perfect golden skin to match his perfect golden hair. Now if that's not proof that Eru loves the Vanyar best, I don't know what is.   
  
As mentioned above, the Noldor really do need a tan to look decent in swimsuits (or shorts). Erestor and dad are not tanned. Therefore they do not look decent in shorts. They ought to keep their shirts on. They don't, but they ought to. And I might look rather like them, but at least I have the sense to know that I am much better off when I keep my clothes on. Frodo thinks the same. Therefore, to save ourselves much potential embarrassment, we have made a pact not to go shirtless unless we are actually planning on going swimming. We briefly considered making up similar contracts for the others to sign as well, but that idea was tossed out when we realised we don't have a printer to hook up to my computer. Too bad.   
  
July 7th   
  
The madness seems to have ended. Arwen and Aragorn announced that they're having "alone time" today, so that rules out annoying family activities. Which is actually sort of fortunate, since I think everyone is pretty much sick of everyone else. Dad told us to all order room service for supper tonight in place of another family dining experience. I'm certainly not complaining about that. I'm perfectly happy to sit in my room and eat overpriced fishsticks while playing computer pinball.   
  
July 8th   
  
I ended up going over to Elrohir's room last night, since he buzzed me and said he'd ordered a pay-per-view horror movie. Legolas showed up as well. We all sat on Elrohir's bed eating room service chips and making fun of the crappy special effects. Then we somehow got into the contents of the minibar. Then Elrohir and Legolas had a burping contest. Then Elrohir got a pin stuck between his front teeth. Then I don't remember what happened, but I remember waking up this morning when dad came and knocked at the door. I was still in Elrohir's room, across the foot of the bed, with Legolas on the floor beside me and Elrohir sort of curled up in a nest made of all the blankets and pillows. My socks had disappeared.   
  
Dad wanted to know if we were coming down for breakfast. I yelled "yes" through the door, but Elrohir and Legolas made grumpy tired noises so I changed my answer to a "no". We stayed as we were, flopped down after a night of drunken revelry, until about two. Then we watched a lame romantic comedy on pay-per-view while eating room service pizza. All in all, I think it was the best day so far.   
  
July 9th   
  
Legolas just asked me if I want to go to Red Lobster for supper tonight. Part of me is suspicious that he's up to something, but then common sense tells me he's not sneaky enough to be up to something. So I don't know what to do. If I go I'm certain that something odd will happen, but if I don't go I'll never find out what he might be up to. And Elrohir might be helping him with his plan, which means I really ought to be responsible and go, if only to stop them from destroying the restaurant in some capacity. I think I should go. Also, I like lobster, so that's always a plus.   
  
July 10th   
  
Legolas didn't seem to be up to anything. We went to Red Lobster (he drove, which surprised me: I didn't even think he knew how) and had a normal supper. The whole while I waited for something strange to happen, but nothing came. We arrived, sat down, ordered, talked about recent happenings, ate, and left. He didn't once mention MTV in the entire conversation. So either this One Ring-destroying heroism escapade had a positive and educational influence on his life, or he's been replaced by an android.   
  
When we got back to the hotel, Elrohir was heading off somewhere with Merry and Pippin to try to find a box of Crisco (for the iguana, he said, as if that would explain anything), so I was left alone with Legolas again. We ended up sitting in the lobby, sipping fancy hotel drinks and having another conversation. It made me realise that I've had more conversations with Legolas in the past 24 hours than I ever considered possible. I suppose I always thought of him as less of a conversationalist and more of the type to randomly say nonsensical things at inappropriate times.   
  
Then today he asked me if I wanted to go for ice cream tomorrow. I said yes, but mainly because I know Arwen's coming by the hotel to get dad to help her arrange wedding photos into an album and I have no desire to get roped into doing that. Sad as it sounds, I think I'd rather help Legolas make tough decisions like whether to choose regular or sugar cone, and sprinkles or chocolate sauce.   
  
July 11th   
  
Having ice cream with Legolas wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be. He didn't "accidentally" trip and smush it into my shirt or take half a hour to decide on which flavour like Elrohir usually does. We just quickly picked up these ice cream drink things that tasted like someone had put a Creamsicle through the blender and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around along the riverbank. I wish I'd thought to bring a blanket to sit on, since the riverbank was covered in goose feces, but we sat on a hard bench and he told me all about his adventure of the past few months. I was sorry to hear about Boromir's death, and interested in the details of Gandalf's turning from grey to white.   
  
We sat for probably two hours. Legolas really has become a better conversationalist since Fiommereth. It didn't sound like he was speaking with exclamation points at all. I think I actually may start to like him.   
  
July 12th   
  
Elrohir hijacked Legolas this morning for something that involved water guns. I think they were planning to use them in the hotel lobby. Naturally, I didn't want to stick around to find out, or witness the process of Legolas' redumbening. So I went to visit Faramir and express my sympathies upon learning the specifics of his brother's death.   
  
I chatted with Faramir for a bit over coffee and came to the conclusion that while he may have been the younger, he was certainly the more responsible of the two. He even had coasters on the coffee table. Then after coffee he told me he was glad that I'd stopped by, since he had something to give me. He went upstairs and came down a minute later with a cardboard box full of dirty magazines, Radiohead CDs, and other random items. It was the box of Boromir's personal belongings, and Faramir had decided to give it to me because Boromir had mentioned my name in an email he'd sent in December and therefore I must have been one of his friends.   
  
I ended up taking the box back to the hotel. I'm not sure what I'll do with the contents. Radiohead CDs I might be able to use, and possibly his Anor College hoodie, but I have no desire to look at magazines full of pictures of mortal women with enormous boobs. And I'm guessing the unmarked video tapes will be more of the same. I'll have to look through it more thoroughly and make some executive decisions on the Material Estate of Boromir Son of Denethor.   
  
July 13th   
  
Of Boromir's belongings, I have decided to keep the following: CDs, hoodie, non-dirty magazines, Darth Vader action figure still in original packaging, blank CDs, Video-8 camcorder, expensive-looking dictionary, travel alarm clock, unopened paint set, atlas of Middle-earth, road maps of Lindon and the Shire.   
  
I will give the following to Elrohir: Sega Genesis system with six games, complete set of X-Men trading cards, X-Men comics, action movie DVDs, oversize novelty beer mug, autographed photo of some movie star, WWF poster, blacklight and blacklight poster of a marijuana leaf, pack of Zig Zags, Belfalas flag.   
  
The dirty magazines and tapes might as well go to Glorfindel, since he's the only one I can think of who would appreciate them (aside from Aragorn, but I don't think Arwen would appreciate him appreciating them).   
  
July 14th   
  
I distributed all of Boromir's things. There were a few small items left in the bottom of the box afterward: a yo-yo, a half-used disposable camera, a hand-held electronic blackjack game with no batteries, a pack of Dentyne Ice and some shoelaces. I gave those to Legolas. Glorfindel leafed through the magazines and decided he didn't want any, so I'm still stuck with those. I note he kept the tapes, though. Elrohir was thrilled with the Sega and hooked it up to the telly in his room straight away. He's been playing Sonic the Hedgehog for the past four hours.   
  
July 15th   
  
Glorfindel brought back six of the eight tapes. Five of those, he informed me, were gay porn. The sixth was Hobbits. He didn't say what the other two were, but if he's keeping them, I'm sure I don't really want to know.   
  
I gave the Hobbit tape to Merry and Pippin, who also gladly took the magazines off my hands. I'm not sure what to do with the other five tapes, though. I mean, I might as well keep them, since Faramir did after all entrust them to me. Not that I'll ever watch them or anything, but I probably should keep them around, if only for sentimental value.   
  
July 16th   
  
We are leaving Minas Tirith on Saturday. It's about time. I've been living in hotels and tents since the beginning of March. That's far too long to be away from an actual bedroom, so I'm quite looking forward to going back home. Not that I'm really sure where home is. I suppose Elrohir will expect us to return to our pathetic filth hole on the west side, though in all honesty I'd much rather go back to living with dad, and I think dad would like that too. Otherwise it would be just him and Erestor in the house now that Arwen's gone, and I don't like to think of those two being left alone together. They'd get up to no good for sure, like lounge-lizard-theme karaoke parties and staff gathering poolside barbeques with Beach Boys music in the background.   
  
Though to be fair, they do that when I am at home too.   
  
July 17th   
  
I asked Elrohir today if he was expecting us to move back to our horrid house. Of course he said yes. Now I'm going to have to find some way out of it without hurting his feelings.   
  
LATER: I was talking with Glorfindel about moving when he said, rather suddenly, "Oh, that reminds me- your house was condemned shortly after you left. Ara and I moved into a condo downtown. Your things are back at your dad's place."   
  
Well I guess that sorts things out easily enough. I would have been angry with Glorfindel for not bothering to tell me sooner had I not been so relieved. Now I just have to tell Elrohir. Or maybe I'll get Glorfindel to tell Elrohir. He's moving to Valinor in a few weeks anyhow and doesn't have to worry about staying on good terms with anyone any more.   
  
July 18th   
  
I took Glorfindel to tell Elrohir about the condemned house. Elrohir's first concern was for the cat. Glorfindel assured him that the cat was safely living in the care of Bilbo Baggins. Then he was concerned about the iguana cage, the Nintendo, and his other important personal belongings. Those had been moved to dad's. Then Elrohir shrugged and said, "Well, alright." He didn't seem to care too much. Maybe the novelty of living away from home has worn off and he's ready to return to a more comfortable lifestyle. I sure hope so, because I don't think I can take any more west side neighbourhoods.   
  
When I got back to my room, dad was waiting to see me. He explained in a very long and roundabout way that, since he was seriously considering moving to Valinor sometime in the near future, I should really look into finishing my degree so that I'm qualified to get a government job and take over for him. I said I'd think about it. He said, "There's nothing to think about, Elladan. You only have one year left and you're going to do it. I've taken the liberty of registering you in the necessary classes at Grey Havens University. You'll be graduating this spring."   
  
Then he handed me an envelope from GHU with my class schedule. Five classes each semester! One of which is at 9-30 every Monday, Wednesday and Friday! Dad obviously knows nothing about making a class schedule. I will have to ring Círdan as soon as I'm back in Rivendell and get this mess sorted out. If I have to go back to university, I'll make my own schedule. I have it down to an art form now. Last year I had classes only on Tuesday and Thursday, and the earliest one started at 11-30. Now that's more like it.   
  
After dad left and was finishing packing up my things to leave tomorrow, Elrohir came and asked me if I was interested in finding a new house with him. I had to pretend to be really disappointed as I informed him that unfortunately I would be leaving for GHU again at the end of August, so there was really no point in trying to find a new house for that short time. He looked a bit crushed. Then he suggested that maybe we could just move into the basement and pretend it was our own house. I told him I'd think about it, then quickly changed the subject. I asked him if the iguana was ready to go. Talking about the iguana never fails. He said yes, he had packed all of the iguana's things (???) and both of them were ready to go. Although, he worried, the iguana might get a bit carsick if it eats too much.   
  
I will have to remember not to sit next to either of them on the drive home. In fact, I might ask Glorfindel if I can go in his car. I'd have to put up with Aralindë in that case, but I'm sure she's no worse than a carsick iguana. 


	13. The Elladan Show: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

August 20th  
  
We arrived back in Rivendell very late last night.  Even though I've now done it, I'm still not really sure how it's possible to take a month to drive up from Minas Tirith.  Really, it should take four days, maybe five.  But when travelling with old people who want to stop everywhere and stay a while to reminisce, that time period is greatly expanded.   
  
We stopped in Edoras for King Théoden's funeral, which is understandable, then at the Doors of Moria, which is not.  Most of the time spent on the road wasn't actually spent on the road at all.  It was spent rather at off-road "rest stops" where we all got out of the cars and met up to spend far too long reminiscing about boring things like sunsets and mountain views.  Grandma and dad were the worst.  Every once in a while dad would say "Well, I guess this is the last we'll ever see of this place," and then grandma would flop against grandpa's shoulder and break out into sobs.  Not that things went any faster after she and grandpa left the convoy.  
  
In any case, by the time we finally got back here, Glorfindel was in a bit of a panic.  His plane to Valinor leaves in ten days and he's not packed yet.  Elrohir and I are supposed to go help him later this afternoon, but to tell the truth, I'm not really inclined to leave the house.  Or really inclined to leave my bedroom at all.  I've been travelling around from place to place since March, and at the moment I'm incredibly interested in taking at least one day of rest in my own room in my own home.  Sort of.  I guess it's my home by default now, since my last home was condemned.  
  
August 21st  
  
The Vala of rest (whoever that might be... Lórien maybe?) seems to be set against me.  I ended up going to help Glorfindel yesterday afternoon, more as an excuse to get away from dad, who was in the mood for yet more reminiscing, than because I was really keen on helping Glorfindel pack 7000 years worth of accumulated crap into overseas shipping crates.  Dad and Erestor had taken out all the old photo albums and were looking through pictures from the First and Second Ages.  They were wearing jeans that were too short and sitting around the dining room table.  Dad was wearing a hat that he got free with a can of Para Paint three years ago.  It was incredibly difficult to try to equate them with the younger thems in the photos, especially when I realised that the younger thems look an awful lot like I look now, and I don't want to have to consider that I might look like the older thems in about 3000 years.  I'd rather spend time with Glorfindel.  He still looks exactly the same as he did before Erestor and dad were even born.  That gives me hope.  
  
Glorfindel does have 7000 years worth of accumulated crap.  Thankfully not too much, not as much as dad by a long shot, but still enough to make packing a chore.  It was my job to sift through it all and help him decide what was worth keeping.  And owns some very odd things.  Compared to everybody else I know, his collection of "stuff" is not at all normal.  Most of it is from the early Second Age, if not the First.  All of his furniture looks like it belongs on Antiques Road Show.  He has a couple of lamps that look like they may have been manufactured within the last five hundred years, but that's it.  And then there are the little things.  A few old books, records, pens, cutlery, a paint set, little wall hangings, wood carvings, a box of jewellery, dishes, candle sticks, mirrors, hair brushes, slippers and so forth, all much older than I.  In fact, I'd venture a guess that the only significant modern items he owns are his car and his mobile.  Otherwise, his lifestyle doesn't appear to have changed at all in the past six thousand years.  He still has clothes from the First Age, and even some that he brought from Valinor, and he doesn't have a television.  
  
In the end, we decided to keep everything.  If he'd had a condo full of crappy shopping-channel gadgets, then culling would be easy.  But it's sort of hard to just toss out things that have been around for longer than I can even imagine.  Glorfindel agreed, and in the end wanted to keep everything.  I should hope so.  If he's bothered to take the trouble to carry it all around from place to place over the past several millennia, I would hope it's all worthwhile.  We packed as much as we could carefully into crates.  Then Glorfindel asked me if I was hungry.  I stalled my answer at first, thinking he was going to threaten to cook, but then he said, "We can stop someplace for supper before I pick Ara up from the mall."  
  
We went to some crazy vegetarian restaurant where everything had soy or whole wheat in it.  My salad had wheat in it.  My drink was made out of soy.  I don't know what the rest was, but it was probably made of wheat and soy too, with a few green things thrown in for good measure.  It tasted like something that primitive Elves might have made way back in the day before they invented hunting and cooking.  I'm at a loss as to why that sort of stuff is considered trendy and cool.  
  
The first thing I did when I got back home was microwave a hot dog.  They're nice and processed and seasoned and only take thirty seconds to prepare straight out of the package; truly the epitome of modern cuisine.  
  
August 22nd  
  
University starts in eleven days.  I am going back to the Grey Havens in ten days.  I've switched around my class schedule into something more manageable, but still I don't feel ready to go back.  Somehow the prospect of packing all my belongings into two suitcases and a carry-on isn't all that appealing.  I just know that whatever I deem unnecessary and leave behind will be required for whatever reason come mid-October.  In first year I was convinced I wouldn't need my formal Noldo costume, but that turned out to be a very wrong assumption.  I will have to plan every day carefully this time around to make sure I don't forget to bring anything important.  
  
On the other hand, dad ingeniously booked me into the Mindon Residence, and those rooms are about the size of a bathroom, so I might also have to do some very careful space planning to make sure all of my stuff fits.  
  
August 23rd  
  
Started packing, got discouraged, stopped, watched telly for a while, started packing all over again.  So far, I have decided that I need to bring my pillow, some bedding, my computer, television, DVD-video, movies, CDs, books, binder, pencil case, toiletries, alarm clock, calendar, and magnet board.  If that all fits into one suitcase, then with any luck I'll be able to fit all my clothes into the other suitcase and carry-on.  
  
August 24th  
  
I am able to fit the pillow, bedding, DVD-video, binder, pencil case, alarm clock, calendar, and magnet board into the first suitcase, with some candles stuffed in to fill up the corners and a few family photos on top.  I will have to box up my CDs and movies and have dad send those to me on the bus, I think.  For some reason, it seems like I have more and more stuff each year.  
  
August 25th  
  
I had to unpack everything last night to take out my pillow so I could sleep.  I think I'll have to leave that suitcase to pack last, on the morning of the 1st before my plane leaves.  
  
I started to pack the other suitcase, and it was already full before I got to my closet.  So I took everything out again, and only packed my favourite items.  Two pair of jeans, three pair of black trousers, one pair of good dress trousers, twelve tee-shirts, six long-sleeve shirts, four button-up shirts, one good dress shirt, one tie, gym kit, twenty pair of underwear, twenty pair of socks, winter coat, light jacket, fleece hoodie, sport coat, the fancy Noldo costume, two pair of regular shoes, one pair of good dress shoes, one pair of boots, winter gloves, scarf and hat, vampire cape to wear to Balathin cabaret, regular pyjamas, winter pyjamas, and one bathrobe.  And one bath towel, one hair towel, and one facecloth, though those don't really count as clothes.  
  
It still didn't fit.  I took out one tee-shirt, one long-sleeve shirt, one pair of jeans, the light jacket, and one pair of shoes to wear on the plane.  It still didn't fit.  I took out the Noldo costume and the bathrobe and squished it all down.  It sort of fit.  I took out one of the towels and squished again, and was able to close the suitcase.  That task is done.  Of course now I'll be stuck wearing my least favourite clothes for the next few days, but I guess it's worth it to be able to have the packing worry off my mind.  
  
August 26th  
  
Elrohir is also packing.  I'm not sure where he thinks I'm going or if he thinks he's coming with me, but he's packing.  His method is to stand a suitcase up on its end vertically, stuff a bunch of clothes down into it, squish everything down, dump some more stuff on top, squish it down, stuff more, squish more, and so forth until the suitcase is full.  Then once it's all full he shakes the suitcase so stuff settles further to the bottom, then opens it up just enough to stuff in a few more small items.  He will repeat the shaking and stuffing process several times over the next few days.  I've seen him do it before.  By the end, his suitcase is always bulging so much out the sides he has to tie it up to keep the seams from bursting.  
  
August 27th  
  
I watched Elrohir continue packing today until my curiosity got the better of me and I asked him where he was going.  He said, "Grey Havens, with you."  I had to pause for a minute before explaining that I was going back to university, and living in a residence room big enough to fit a bed, a desk, and a closet with enough space left over for maybe two people to stand side by side.  He said, "I know, I'm going to university too."  
  
I must've looked shocked or incredulous or something, because he turned around and grabbed a crumpled piece of paper from his backpack.  It was his class schedule at GHU.  He seems to be enrolled in Music Composition 310, Theatre Performance 403, Film Narrative Studies 251, and Conversational Quenya 300.  The same conversational Quenya class I am enrolled in, I noted.  
  
I asked him what degree this was for, but he sort of shrugged and said, "I dunno."  Then he said, rather defensively, "Dad said I could go!"  I asked where he was staying.  "Mindon Residence," he said.  Of course.  Not only am I going to be spending the next eight months living in a cell the size of a bathroom, I'll be living next door to Elrohir.  I don't know why I ever agreed to go back to university at all.  
  
Oh that's right, I didn't.  I don't have a choice in the matter.  
  
After supper I asked dad if he knew what Elrohir was up to with this university-going, and he said, "Of course, I encouraged him to go."  I couldn't help but ask why.  We both know that sending Elrohir to university is a bit of a waste of time and money.  He skips most of his classes, and the ones he doesn't skip, he sleeps through.  But dad only looked stern and said that he was proud of Elrohir for acting responsibly and having the desire to learn.  I could see by his eyes that he wasn't in a mood to discuss this further.  He's always held a bit of an unreasonable hope that Elrohir might not be stupid after all, and it was obvious that there was no point in trying to take that hope away from him.  
  
But honestly!  Elrohir, a desire to learn?  That's the last thing he'd want to do at university!  Much more likely, he has a desire to get drunk indiscriminately on weekdays and spend weekends throwing impromptu toga parties in the residence common room.  And sure enough, when I later asked him, he proudly told me he found a perfect pure white bed sheet to make into a toga.  
  
I went and checked my own bedding and was pleased to see I'd had the sense to pack the hideous jewel-tone abstract pattern sheets.  There's no better excuse for getting out of a toga party than inappropriate attire, really.  
  
August 28th  
  
The first thing I heard this morning, as I was walking into the kitchen to discover breakfast, was an exasperated voice saying, "Can the crap, Peredhel, where's my idiot son?!"  I peered cautiously around the corner.  Dad was in the kitchen, and Erestor, along with what looked like two Glorfindels.  Erestor was hiding behind a spider plant, and dad was standing at the table with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.  One of the Glorfindels was sitting with a mug of coffee, and the other was standing in a decidedly aggressive pose opposite dad.  From the back, they both looked the same- long blond hair and sharp black rayon suits, though one was noticeably shorter.  
  
I tried to sneak away but dad, obviously looking for any escape from the situation, saw me and yelled out in a relieved voice, "Elladan!  Come in here a minute!"  I went.  He said, "You remember Legolas' father, Thranduil, from Mirkwood?  Thranduil, this is my son Elladan."  I looked at Thranduil.  From the front, he looked a bit like Legolas, if Legolas had been born with Glorfindel's personality and fashion sense.  Though maybe a bit grumpier.  I said, "Hi."  He looked at me and said, "Hmm."  I suddenly wished I'd thought to put on real clothes instead of dirty old jeans and a tee-shirt I got free from being in the Avid Readers club at the public library.  
  
Dad said, "Thranduil was just wondering if we knew anything on the whereabouts of Legolas, Elladan.  Did he happen to tell you where he was going?"  I said no, our parting words had been on the topic of laundry.  I'd hugged him goodbye and commented that his jumper smelled like Bounce sheets, and he'd told me about his trip to the laundromat.  However, it was my impression that he was going to look around the Glittering Caves and Fangorn Forest with Gimli, and I mentioned that.  Then Thranduil turned back to dad and said, "Damnit, Peredhel, the boy has the wits of a toothbrush!  He needs to be supervised!  How could you let him go off like that?  And who is this Gimli character anyway?"  Dad looked sheepish and started, "Erm, I believe he's a Dwarf from the-" but he didn't finish, because Thranduil cut him off with a string of unmentionable words.  
  
Thranduil eventually calmed down and sat beside Glorfindel with a defeated sigh that sounded a bit like, "I need a drink."  Dad, who has no sense of when to just flee a situation instead of trying vainly to improve it, kept talking.  "I'm sure Legolas will be fine," he said.  "The trip to Mordor with Aragorn seems to have done him quite a bit of good.  He's much more responsible now, and better at thinking things through."  I could vouch for that.  I noticed a definite improvement in him, compared to what he was like last summer and at Fiommereth.  I distinctly heard him use the word "insinuate" in one of our Minas Tirith conversations.  Thranduil seemed to think this over, and said, "Well, as long as he's home in time for..." and then paused as if considering what he'd ever need Legolas home for.  He amended his statement to, "Well, as long as he's not dead!"  
  
August 29th  
  
I don't think Thranduil ever sleeps.  He was up late last night playing Bubble Bobble with Elrohir when I went to bed, and he woke me up early this morning to get me to show him how to use the coffee maker.  I asked him with some degree of annoyance why Elrohir couldn't be his coffee helper, and he said, "Elladan, your brother means well, but I wouldn't trust him to flush a toilet for me even if he'd taken an extensive training course and had special certification in toilet-flushing."  And he's right.  I wouldn't trust Elrohir to flush a toilet either.  He'd probably get distracted by an ant on the bathroom tiles and forget completely what he was supposed to be doing.  
  
He went on to tell me, while the coffee was brewing, how he'd tried to teach Elrohir some table manners last night after Glorfindel went home to finish up on last-minute packing.  Unfortunately, Elrohir thought it was a game, and only agreed to learn if Thranduil agreed to play Bubble Bobble with him.  Thranduil got a bit hooked, and they ended up playing Bubble Bobble until half three.  I asked him why he stayed here instead of at Glorfindel's, where there is no Bubble Bobble and no Elrohir to distract him, and where he's supposed to be anyhow since he did in theory come to see Glorfindel off to Valinor.  He said that there is no spare bed or even any bed at Glorfindel's now that all the furniture's been shipped, and he didn't fancy having to share the inflatable camp mattress.  I guess that's reasonable.  Then I asked him if dad knew he stayed here.  
  
He said he didn't quite know.  He didn't see dad at all last night during his Bubble Bobble tournament, and it was Elrohir who showed him to a spare room.  I decided it might be best to inform dad that Thranduil was hanging around the kitchen before he got up and found out for himself the hard way.  Dad was in his room, asleep, with a crossword puzzle book lying open across his chest and a pencil nestled into a crease in his pyjamas.  He looked very peaceful and relaxed so I just stood and watched him sleep for a while.  There was a piece of fuzz on the end of his nose that fluttered when he breathed.  
  
After a minute I sat down on the edge of the bed and gently shook him awake.  He startled, looked up at me, and immediately said, "What's wrong?"  I assured him that nothing was wrong, then offered him my mug of coffee.  I'd only had two sips out of it, and he couldn't tell I hadn't brought it especially for him.  He eyed me warily and asked what I was up to.  He knows me too well.  I guess it's sort of sad that I can't bring my own father coffee in the morning without being suspected of something.  I'll have to work at being a better son in the future.  
  
I waited until he didn't have a mouthful of coffee before telling him that Thranduil was still here.  He sort of groaned and said, "Tell him I'm sick.  Tell him we half-Elves get sick all the time, like mortals.  He'll believe that.  He's ignorant.  He once asked me if I could grow a beard."  I nodded and left him there mumbling to himself, and went back to Thranduil in the kitchen.  I informed Thranduil that dad was suffering from crossword sickness and couldn't leave his bed for fear of not being able to think of a six-letter word for "obsolete".  "Well," said Thranduil, "I guess I'll just have to rely on you then."  
  
Thus I was stuck entertaining Thranduil for the next twelve hours because Elrohir was too asleep and dad was too hiding and Glorfindel hadn't shown up yet and Erestor had just plain disappeared.  I showed him around the house.  He pointed out the room he was staying in: the one next to the furnace room where we always put Legolas when he comes.  I told him he ought to move if he's going to be staying tonight as well, which he is, and we hauled his suitcase to Arwen's old room, which has a balcony, fireplace, television, and no noise from the humming furnace.  He grinned and said, "Well Elladan, now I know for certain you're the smart twin!"  Which is a compliment, I suppose, but it still concerns me that he had any doubt on that matter whatsoever.  We sat in Arwen's old room and watched the news for a while, and when that got boring I took him for a drive to the Dairy Queen to get Dilly Bars because he had a 2-for-1 coupon that was valid only in Eriador.    
  
Glorfindel finally showed up around seven, apologising profusely for leaving poor Thranduil at the mercy of the Peredhil for so long.  Thranduil clapped me on the back and told Glorfindel not to worry, that he's been having a great time.  I should hope so.  He'd won nearly $30 off me playing Crazy Eights, which I don't think is even a gambling game at all.  And I didn't get a chance to win my money back, since he and Glorfindel went off to the kitchen to make some sort of good-bye mess.  They came out an hour and a half later bearing pots of popular foods from their respective cultures.  To be honest, I preferred the regular Mirkwood soup and potato thingies to the ridiculously spicy Vanyarin whatevertheyares.  The smell of food lured Erestor out of hiding, but dad didn't show up until later when the drinking started.  
  
Glorfindel and Thranduil decided it would be a good idea to get roaringly drunk for old times' sake while fondly recalling stupid things they've done together over the years.  There were a disproportionate number of stories involving luncheon meat (often in combination with Gil-galad in some way).  They ended up laughing so hard they fell off their chairs.  Dad and Erestor stared in shock at the confessions.  I could tell by his expression that dad had always wanted to know who covered the windscreen of Gil-galad's Camaro with baloney.  They ended up talking about Gil-galad for a while, and high kings in general.  The more dad and Thranduil drank, the more argumentative the talk became.    
  
Then because I've always wanted to know, and because I knew dad was drunk enough not to get too unforgivably mad at me, I asked him why he never took the crown of the high king after Gil-galad died.  He looked thoughtful for several long seconds, then said (in a loud, drunkenly slurred voice), "I guess I just didn't feel like it."  Glorfindel said, "I was the high king once."  Then Erestor started laughing hysterically.  But dad was still looking thoughtfully serious, so I asked him if that meant the crown passed to me after he refused it.  He nodded once, as if thinking to himself, before Glorfindel stood up and shouted, "No!  It's mine!"  Dad nodded again, more emphatically, and said, "That's right, Glorfindel's the high king now."  
  
I sarcastically said, "Oh really, when was the coronation?" but they didn't seem to catch the sarcastic part because Glorfindel's drunkenly unfocused eyes suddenly lit up and he said, "Coronation!  We should do that before I go!"  Thranduil jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at Glorfindel while yelling, "Bastard!  I thought you were a socialist!"  Glorfindel said, "I'll bring down the system from within!"  That seemed good enough an answer for Thranduil.  Then Erestor turned to him and asked, "Aren't you the king of Mirkwood?"  Thranduil didn't answer that.  He was too busy trying to stand steadily so he could help with Glorfindel's coronation.  
  
I'm not sure why they thought they should go through with it, but dad stumbled off to get Gil-galad's crown down from the display cabinet and Erestor gathered up more celebratory wine.  Glorfindel meanwhile debated with himself over whether or not his clothes were suitable attire to become High King of the Noldor in.  He decided they were not, so he stripped down to his shorts and tied the tablecloth around himself as a cape.  It seemed a bit beyond my power to explain to them that none of this could in any way be considered a good idea.  Least of all the fact that the High King of the Noldor in the East would be a Vanya who is moving to Valinor tomorrow.  Naturally they didn't listen to me.  
  
The four of them, having decided that the back yard by the ponds would be an ideal place for the coronation, paraded outside.  First dad, carrying the crown and sceptre on a pillow, then Glorfindel, looking very proud and noble indeed in his shorts and tablecloth, then Thranduil, shouting occasional curses to the Noldorin monarchy, then Erestor, taking an occasional swig from the celebratory bottle of wine he carried.  They sang as they went, and made such a racket that Elrohir, who had been playing Nintendo through the whole spectacle thus far, came out to see what was going on.  I sarcastically told him that we were about to witness the glorious historical moment of the crowning of the Seventh High King of the Noldor in the East.  He didn't catch the sarcasm either, since he said, "Oh COOL!" and ran inside to get his camera.  
  
Dad had to ask Glorfindel what to do, since Glorfindel was the only one who'd ever been to an actual Noldorin coronation before.  It ended up being a bungled and very abridged ceremony.  Dad sloppily placed the crown on Glorfindel's head and proclaimed him High King.  Then they drank more, and Elrohir took some pictures of Glorfindel making obscene gestures with his sceptre.  Then Glorfindel stumbled over and put his arm around me, and said, "Now Elladan... since I'm leaving for Valinor tomorrow, I think you'll have to be in charge of running things here.  So don't do anything wrong!"  I humoured him and said, "Fine."  He seemed happy with that, and went inside to ring Aralindë and tell her he was the high king.  It was twenty after one in the morning.  I'm sure she was thrilled to hear it.  
  
While Glorfindel was inside and Elrohir was taking pictures of Erestor balancing the wine bottle on various parts of his body and Thranduil trying to steal it from him, I took dad aside and tried to talk to him sensibly.  I asked him if this coronation was legally binding.  He said that as far as he knew, it was.  Anyone descended from Finwë could claim the crown, if it were available, though it should in theory belong to the closest male relative of the previous king.  So all this time the crown was just sitting there, I could have claimed it, being Gil-galad's first cousin three times removed!  Also his second cousin once removed, on mum's side.  I'll bet nobody could force me to go to university if I were High King of the Noldor!  
  
I told dad this (not the part about not going to university, though), and also pointed out to him that Glorfindel isn't exactly descended from Finwë.  Dad said, "Sure he is."  I said, "No, he's not."  Dad said, "Yes he is.  He's the son of your great-uncle Finrod."  
  
I think my first reaction to that was something along the lines of "What?!" which only made dad repeat himself even though I'd heard him the first time.  I asked Erestor if this was true, but he only looked confused and said, "Maybe," then asked me to repeat the question.  I asked Thranduil, but he didn't know.  I didn't bother asking Elrohir.  There was only one person I could ask who might know for sure.  So I ran inside to ring grandma.  I sort of forgot that it would be two-thirty in Lórien until grandpa answered he phone sounding groggy and annoyed.  Grandma didn't sound much better.  
  
I asked her if it was true that Glorfindel was actually the long-lost son of her older brother, and she said yes.  I asked since when.  She said, "Since he was born, I'm guessing."  I ignored her sarcasm and asked since when had they known.  She said, "Since Arwen's wedding.  It came up in that talk you interrupted."  So that's what they were "conferencing" about!  They weren't having sex at all!  Well, maybe they still were- I wouldn't put it past them.  But I asked her how they found out, since Glorfindel's parentage has always been a mystery to everyone (except his mum, I'm guessing).  She groaned and said, "It's a long story that would be better off not told in the middle of the night."  I thanked her for her time and hung up.  
  
So Glorfindel is really grandma's nephew, and my first cousin once removed, and Gil-galad's second cousin, and Finwë's great-grandson, and therefore the actual legitimate heir to the throne, not just some drunken idiot trying to cash in!  Why doesn't anybody ever tell me anything?!  Disgusted and annoyed with the whole scenario, I decided that the only reasonable course of action would be to eat a large bowl of ice cream and then go straight to bed.  Which is what I did.  Though it wasn't exactly straight to bed; I stopped off in the library first to look up a picture of Finrod in one of those fancy books dad likes so much.  I suppose Glorfindel does look like him.  That only made me more annoyed.  
  
Stupid Glorfindel stupid son of stupid Finrod.  Thinks he's so great!  Well he wouldn't if I were High King of the Noldor.  Like I should be.  Nothing ever works out for me!  
  
August 30th  
  
Glorfindel left for Valinor today.  After sleeping on it, I realised that I don't really hate him.  He just annoys me sometimes.  And I'm glad he's High King and not me.  He can deal with all the psycho assassins and Elrohir's peculiar songs of loyal devotion (which might be worse).  I'll just continue innocently going to university to get my political science degree so that I can oust him from government with a plebiscite to establish a Noldorin republic.  
  
He stayed over last night.  I found him this morning, passed out on the kitchen floor holding half a lemon in one hand and an empty tequila bottle in the other.  He was wearing his crown, though his cape had gone missing.  Thranduil was a few feet away.  He was using a few wadded-up rubber gloves and SOS pads as a pillow.  Neither of them looked too happy to be woken up at the ridiculous hour of eleven.  But by noon they were both awake and showered and dressed, sitting around the kitchen table discussing the finer points of last night's foolery and planning more foolery for today.  
  
In order to remember everything about his life here, Glorfindel borrowed dad's camcorder to do some sort of in-depth video tour of the house.  Elrohir was his tour guide, and was able to come up with an amusing anecdote related to every single room.  Even the pantry.  He still remembers the time a mouse jumped off the top shelf and landed on his nose when he was seven and had gone to sneak a cookie.  The mouse ran under the sink and dad had to catch it with a minnow net.  I'm not sure why Glorfindel would want to capture the stunning aesthetic of the pantry to cherish for always on Mini-DV, but he did.  
  
It took over two hours to tape the entire house and surrounding yard.  It was sort of a sad time.  After the whole thing was done, Elrohir burst into tears and wailed that he was worried he'd never see Glorfindel again.  It took Thranduil and Erestor fifteen minutes to get him to quit clinging.  He continued sniffling all through lunch while dad and Erestor talked about their own moving plan, to be implemented sometime within the next few years, and Glorfindel talked about how great Valinor is and how glad he is to be going back.  Makes me wonder why he ever left in the first place.  
  
Ever-practical dad asked, "Do you have your ticket?"  Glorfindel said, "Of course I do," and patted his pocket.  Then he got a funny look on his face.  He looked in his pocket.  The ticket was missing.  Panic.  Elrohir was displaying a suspiciously smug grin.  Glorfindel turned to him and asked, "What did you do?" to which Elrohir ingeniously replied, "You can't leave if you don't have your ticket."  Glorfindel, obviously not in the mood for pranks, picked up Elrohir rather violently by his shirt collar.  "Elrohir," he said, "I have been waiting for this day for the past 7431 years, and I'm sure not going to allow my plans to return to my home country to be ruined by you!"  He looked capable of murder in that moment.  Elrohir wisely handed over the ticket.  He was not allowed to touch Glorfindel during the goodbyes, only wave forlornly from three feet away.  
  
And that was that.  There was a goodbye hug, a promise of emails, and then we all stood on the front step and watched Glorfindel drive off to the airport.  He's been part of my family since I was born, and now he's somewhere over the ocean on his way to Tol Eressëa.  It's possible I won't ever see him again, which seems strange to think about.  
  
Everyone was pretty much depressed for the rest of the day.  Dad and Erestor sat at the kitchen table drinking tea.  Dad got out a jigsaw puzzle, but they were too sad to work on it.  Thranduil sat with them when he wasn't pacing aimlessly.  After a while he got a beer from the pantry, but he was too sad to drink it.  Elrohir went and sat in the den, but he was too sad to play Nintendo, so he watched television.  He vowed to watch only the news for the next 24 hours, to be sure that there was no breaking report of Glorfindel's plane crashing into the ocean or anything.  I mostly drifted between sitting with dad and Erestor at the table and sitting with Elrohir in the den.  It didn't feel right to be doing anything worthwhile.  
  
Spirits were lifted briefly when we ordered in pizza for supper, but the joy only lasted about ten minutes.  Then the depression returned.  I'm going to have to write stupid Glorfindel an email to make sure he knows just how miserable he's making everybody.  
  
August 31st  
  
Dad is worried.  Thranduil doesn't show any sign of leaving.  Rather, he appears to be making himself very comfortable in Arwen's old room.  I was sent to ask him in a friendly-like manner when  he's planning on going back to Mirkwood, but all he would say was "I had to book my trip for at least a week in order to get the best airfare deal."  So that means he'll be here for another five days, if not longer.  
  
Dad wasn't happy to hear that, since Elrohir and I are leaving for uni tomorrow and he'll be forced to entertain Thranduil on his own.  He rubbed his forehead aggravatedly and said, "I know he's Glorfindel's friend, and I know that in theory he's not so bad, but somehow I just can't bring myself to like him."  I asked if this was because Thranduil insists on calling him "Peredhel" instead of "Elrond".  Dad said, "Maybe..." in such a way that indicated this was the exact problem or at least a large part of it.  I pointed out that he has it better off than Erestor, whose name Thranduil never uses.  Erestor just gets called "hey you Golodh!" most of the time.  That didn't seem to cheer him up much.  
  
September 1st  
  
School starts tomorrow.  I don't feel ready.  Maybe because I'm still here in Rivendell.  I'll be in the Grey Havens in six hours though, so I'm hoping I feel more school-ready when I get there.  The plane leaves at four and crosses over three time zones, so it'll still be four when I arrive.  My suitcases are packed and ready to go by the garage door.  That's not counting the three boxes of stuff I need to get dad to send to me on the bus.  Elrohir's things are sort of in a pile next to mine.  He's not even going to try to close the suitcases until the last possible minute, to minimise strain on the zips.  
  
We had a last family lunch together at noon: dad, Elrohir, Erestor, Thranduil and I.  Erestor fancied it to be quite the swanky affair.  He'd taken the time to melt cheddar onto Triscuits in the microwave instead of just using Cheez Whiz.  That didn't make much of an impression on dad, though, who was still in bad shape from Glorfindel leaving and Thranduil staying.  As he stared down at his plate, I could almost hear him thinking about how to cope with the next eight months of only having Erestor around.  From the look of things, that thought didn't do much to cheer him up.  All the Beach Boys CDs and Trivial Pursuit parties in the world don't make up for having your entire family stolen by air transport.  
  
Though I suppose there's always the telephone.  Which reminds me, I haven't spoken to Arwen in weeks.  Maybe I ought to ring her.  Not that she's gone out of her way to contact me, I might point out.  Maybe I'll just send her a postcard from the Grey Havens.  She'll need something to take her mind off Aragorn.  He can be a bit of a handful.  I'm putting my bet in now that the marriage lasts two years, tops. 


	14. The Elladan Show: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

September 6th  
  
The first week of classes is now over, and I'm not insane yet.  So with any luck, I'll live through this semester.  My History 340 course (the middle class in early Númenor) is the most boring thing I can imagine, except for maybe Poli Sci 412 (modern political philosophy of Mirkwood).  Poli Sci 434 (politics and the media) at least looks halfway interesting; we watched some newsreels last class, and I hope it doesn't get any more difficult than that.  Poli Sci 441 (Elven governments in world politics) has a frightening syllabus that includes reference to a 30-page term paper, but at least the professor seems like fun.  Then there's Conversational Quenya 300, which is pretty much like the title says, only Elrohir's in that class and he's loud.  And I think he might be better than me, which causes some worry.  He can't read or write in proper Quenya worth a hill of beans, but he can carry off a perfect conversation.  
  
Speaking of Elrohir, he's getting homesick for his iguana.  He's telephoned dad every night so far to make sure he's feeding it and handling it lovingly. Dad said he doesn't mind the feeding part, but he's a bit afraid to touch it so he leaves the handling to Erestor.  Last night Elrohir made Erestor hold the iguana up to the phone so it could hear his voice over the line.  He was very disappointed when Erestor told him the iguana didn't react at all.  Dad had to find the cat and scratch its ears until it purred loud enough for Elrohir to hear just to make up for the apathetic iguana's lack of courtesy.  
  
I don't think anything else worth mentioning happened all week.  I got most of my stuff unpacked, except for a few things that won't fit.  They went sort of wadded-up under my bed.  I have no idea where I'm going to put the stuff dad's sending on the bus. Elrohir's stuff didn't fit in his room either.  He came over on Tuesday to see if he could put some of his clothes in my closet just as I was opening the door to go ask the same of him.  We both agreed that dorm rooms twp meters by three meters squared just aren't big enough.  Then he invited me to his room-warming party.  I wandered over briefly (he lives four doors down) but was unable to fit inside since there were already five other people in there.  
  
Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure Elrohir's been having a party in his room every night this week. Tuesday was the room-warming party, Wednesday was the secretive drinking party, Thursday was a pyjama party (with secretive drinking), and Friday was another secretive drinking party.  He's not having  a party tonight, though, on account of how there's a Welcome Week Cabaret in the Uni Centre multipurpose room.  The cabaret theme is "Second Age Disco Casual".  I have absolutely no desire to go.  I don't look good at all in flared trousers and polyester shirts with huge collars.  
  
September 7th  
  
I ended up going to the cabaret.  Elrohir showed up at my door at quarter past eleven, just as I was in the middle of marking important dates on my calendar.  He wouldn't leave.  I tried ignoring him for a while, but Elrohir is a very difficult person to ignore.  He bounced on my bed while shouting "What're you doing now? What're you doing now? What're you doing now?" until I gave up and agreed to go down to the cabaret. That involved first going to his room and being dressed in a ridiculous Second Age-type outfit.  I looked an awful lot like Erestor in old photos. Elrohir later informed me that he'd stolen the clothes out of Erestor's closet a few years back for a different uni cabaret and he never bothered to return them.  
  
Now uni cabarets are not in fact "cabarets" in the best sense of the word.  They're more like a room full of students drinking on school property while a DJ plays.  Really, like a high school dance with alcohol.  Lots of alcohol.  It was pretty much a room full of drunken students wearing their parents' old clothes and dancing to the Bee Gees.  Elrohir fit right in, being tipsy himself and wearing a shirt that I recognised as one of dad's that somehow worked its way into the dressups.  He danced with one hand pointing into the air and the other hand firmly around his Rev.  
  
I mostly stood along the walls and pretended to be really interested in my paralyser.  I recognised all of two people there: one loud girl from PSCI 412 named Cerithwen, and a guy from PSCI 434.  I think his name is Aerthos.  He sort of smiled and waved at me from across the room.  I was too stupid to do anything more than smile and wave back.  Thus I spent the entire cabaret standing by myself, except for one song when Elrohir forced me to dance.  I had to wait until three before he was ready to stumble back to the residence. And to think I could have spent that time checking my email or something useful!  
  
September 9th  
  
Aerthos smiled and waved at me in class today.  He sits on the opposite side of the room.  I smiled and waved back.  Nothing further came of the encounter. If the same thing happens on Thursday, I might have to suspect that he's interested in getting to know me or something, and not just smiling and waving in a "hey I saw you at that dumb cabaret on Saturday" sort of way.  
  
September 11th  
  
He smiled and waved again.  I smiled and waved back again.  I'm sure this must mean something.  
  
September 12th  
  
I am starting to severely dislike Conversational Quenya 300.  The professor seems to be under the impression that since Elrohir and I are twins, we must want to do pair work together instead of with other (less insane) members of the class.  And everything is done in pairs.  Today's assignment, due on Monday, is to write a two-page interview to be performed in front of the class. What I'm going to interview Elrohir about is anyone's guess.  The only topics on which I'd trust his authority are Nintendo games and iguanas. Possibly also skateboards.  
  
We were supposed to get together tonight after supper to work on the assignment, but since I saw Elrohir wandering down the corridor an hour ago wearing his swimmers, I somehow don't think he's going to remember.  
  
September 15th  
  
The Conversational Quenya interview was a disaster. For me, at least.  I'm sure Elrohir's going to get a great mark on it.  Which only heightens my irritation.  
  
We did no planning whatsoever, unless you count Elrohir finally coming round to my room at ten last night to say, "Yeah, you just write out some questions and I'll answer them with whatever I think of."  That didn't give me much to go on, so in retaliation I wrote out fifteen intellectual questions on the topic of world politics in the present and foreseeable future.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  
  
Elrohir showed up for class carrying a large bag full of what turned out to be costume items.  When our turn came to perform, he pulled out a velour cape and his cheap blonde wig and announced to the class that he would be playing the role of Finarfin for this interview.  I was suddenly very sorry I'd chosen to do a political interview, because that actually made sense.  In hindsight, it would have been far more interesting to interview "Finarfin" about lizards and skateboarding.  Trust Elrohir to foil my scheme without even trying or knowing.  
  
He answered each question flawlessly.  Of course his answers were completely made-up and probably way off the mark in terms of what Finarfin would actually say, but I'll bet nobody cared about that.  They were all too impressed with the fact that he "knew his lines so well".  I didn't bother to mention that he was improvising as we went along, because that would have only impressed them further and made me look even worse.  And I was pretty awful already.  Elrohir's irritatingly sensible answers shook my concentration and made me forget what I was supposed to say, so I had to keep looking down at the paper.  
  
It's not that I really mind Elrohir being good at something.  It's just I don't like him being better than me.  Especially when there are witnesses.  
  
September 16th  
  
There was more smiling and waving from Aerthos today, though this time there was also a nod that was distinctly of the "hey how's it going" variety.  I think that might count as progress.  
  
Also, dad finally sent my box of stuff.  I had to walk down to the bus depot to collect it (it took forty minutes) and take a taxi back (no way was I walking with that box), but at least now I have my DVD and CD collections which will, in theory, make my dorm room more entertaining.  Also my dumb Noldo costume to wear to the Fiommereth Formal, though it was mostly in there for padding.  I also noticed that dad had stuck in a few extra things (probably to fill the box), which was a nice thought.   Though when I'll ever need a half-empty jar of seafood sauce and four tea towels is anyone's guess.  
  
September 17th  
  
We got our marks back for the Quenya interview. Elrohir got ten out of ten.  I got six and a half. That just doesn't seem fair somehow.  
  
September 18th  
  
Aerthos was standing by the classroom door today.  He said, "Hey," as I passed.  I said, "Hey" back.  We had a brief and intellectually stunning conversation that went something like this:  
  
Him:  So, you were at that cabaret last Saturday?  
Me:  Yeah, my brother wanted to go.  I'm not really into that stuff.  
Him:  Yeah, me neither, I just went with my roommate.  
Me:  Oh yeah, cool.  
Him:  Yeah.  
Me:  So, uhhh...  
Him:  Guess we'd better sit down, class is about to start.  
Me:  Yeah, I guess.  
  
Then I sat in my place and he sat in his, and that was that.  I hung around the doorway after class to see if he'd stop and talk again, but he went to ask the prof a question.  I felt like a dork waiting around for more than five minutes, so I left without talking to him again.  
  
September 21st  
  
The first of the toga parties has come and gone.  I thankfully managed to avoid it.  I did view some of the festivities from a safe distance, though.  It was being held in the residence lounge area on our floor; Elrohir and some others had pushed the sofas against the walls to make room for toga fun.  Then they all dressed up in bed sheets and acted like goofs until three in the morning.  I'm sure the people on the floor below mustn't have been impressed with all the noise.  And to make things worse, I think Elrohir is planning on making this a regular feature of residence life.  The last thing I heard before I snuck away was,  
  
Elrohir:  Next time we need to smuggle some beer past the floor monitor!  
Random guy in navy toga:  I'm the floor monitor.  
Elrohir:  Can we smuggle beer past you?  
Random guy:  Yeah, that's cool.  
  
I'll have to remember to be too busy to attend that one too.  
  
September 22nd  
  
Naturally, I am paired with Elrohir for another lame Quenya assignment.  This one, which the prof introduced as "fun", involves us pretending to be on a television show.  It doesn't matter what show, so long as everything's performed in Quenya.  I just know Elrohir has some crazy idea.  I saw his face light up the minute the prof announced the topic.  I'm having one of those "I don't want to be part of this" premonitions.  
  
We have a week to work on it this time, but knowing Elrohir, he'll keep putting off doing his part of the work until Sunday night. Actually I probably will too.  I'm starting to hate this class.  
  
September 23rd  
  
I had another brief conversation with Aerthos before class today.  I told him I liked his shirt.  He smiled and told me he just bought it two weeks ago, on sale for 25% off.  According to an article called "Ten Ways To Tell He's Interested" I read in one of Arwen's girl magazines once, it's a good sign when he mentions where/how he acquired the shirt instead of just saying "thanks".  Surely this means something?  
  
September 24th  
  
I had a rather intimate dream involving Aerthos last night.  I'm pretty sure I know what it means.  I think I might be in love with him.  Or at least lust.  And to be honest, either would be more than welcome right now.  I haven't gotten lucky since February, and that was with Ardlor of all people.  I need a new boyfriend.  One who isn't Erestor.  One who is actually close to my age and has some common interests.  
  
I will have to talk to him tomorrow and maybe ask him out for some sort of coffee-like activity.  Or ask him over here to study for the PSCI 434 test next week. That might be a better plan.  Then it's not actually a date.  Not that he knows of, at least.  
  
September 25th  
  
I think this has been the best day of the semester so far.  I talked to Aerthos, but not exactly in the context I was thinking of last night.  Not that I'm complaining.  Actually, it all went far better than I had hoped.   
  
After class, as I was leaving to go over to the Uni Centre food court, Aerthos ran up and asked me if I was going for lunch.  I said "yes".  He said, "Cool, I was just going to get pizza.  I'll come with you."   
  
He bought vegetarian pizza (I hope he's not another Glorfindel), I bought a turkey sandwich, and we sat together in the trendy coffee-shop part of the food court where there are fancy lights on the wall and the tables are round.  Mostly we talked about class, but the conversation eventually moved on to general getting-to-know-each-other stuff.  His parents live in Forlond, and he has no brothers or sisters.  I told him he's lucky, and informed him of the perils of Elrohir and Arwen.  He said he's seen Arwen on telly a few times, and dad too.  Then he asked if it was ever weird being part of such a famous family.  I had to say no, since I don't really know any other sort of life:  it seems normal for television crews to show up a few times a year to tape dad giving some dumb speech.  Though I guess it has taken some of the magic away from the concept of celebrity.  I just know that no matter how perfect he looks on television, off-camera Ingwë is probably just like dad, doing crossword puzzles on the biff and having late fines at the video store.  
  
Aerthos laughed and said he couldn't imagine the legendary Elrond doing crossword puzzles or even going to the biff.  I assured him that the legendary Elrond was far more normal than people care to think, and told him about the time dad locked his keys in the car and waited around for half an hour for EAA to show up before he realised he'd left the passenger side unlocked.  Also about the time we were at the beach and a dragonfly ate a spider off of his head without him even knowing.  And about his wearing loud, small swim shorts and singing along with the Beach Boys while he vacuums the pool.  
  
At this, Aerthos got a look of divine inspiration and said that we should do a project on the secret lives of politicians for 434. The choice is to either write a term paper or do a class-presentation project, so why not use my tabloid-worthy knowledge and have some fun?  I agreed that this sounded like a good idea. The world needs to know that Elrond isn't as grand as they make him out to be on the evening news.  Or at least the class needs to know.  That might be better. Dad will probably be less mad at me for showing twenty people how lame he is, as opposed to six billion.  
  
In any case, I think this means that Aerthos and I are together for doing this project.  I have a legitimate reason to talk to him now, and ask for his phone number.  Maybe even invite him over late at night. For special class project purposes, of course. Which reminds me, my Quenya assignment with Elrohir is due tomorrow.  Maybe I should start on my part of that and assume he's forgotten about his.  
  
September 26th  
  
Elrohir came by my room very late last night, right as I was finishing playing pinball and about to get started on the Quenya.  He was carrying some papers. He said, "Here, I'm done the assignment, these are your lines you have to learn for tomorrow," and he handed me a script.  It felt sort of weird for Elrohir to have done all the work, but since it was midnight and I hadn't done anything yet, I didn't really care.  
  
I looked over the script.  It called for me to be a news anchor in Tirion while he was a foreign correspondent in Valmar reporting on the festivities for Ingwë's birthday.  It seemed structurally sound. Also structurally idiotic, but at least it was done so I couldn't really complain.  And Elrohir had more lines than I, which was good.  I just had to ask him questions about the situation and pretend to be interested.  
  
Of course Elrohir wore his blond wig and some makeshift Vanya outfit (which looked an awful lot like a bathrobe over a backwards track suit) for the in-class performance today.  I just wore a black sport coat that I thought looked rather news-anchorish.  All in all, it went very well.  Much better than the interview.  I remembered all my lines, and the prof congratulated us on a "first-rate effort" afterward. She commended Elrohir on his impressive Vanyarin accent and dialect.  Then she turned to me and said, "And that's a very professional suit, Elladan.  You do look like a news anchor."  Which is better than nothing, I guess.  
  
September 28th  
  
I spent the weekend mostly watching DVDs and kicking myself for not asking Aerthos for his phone number on Thursday.  I'm sure we could've gotten around to doing lots of schoolwork-related activities over the past two days.  Or maybe just doing-related activities of the non-schoolwork variety.  That would've been fine by me, really.  
  
September 29th  
  
We got the marks for the Quenya project back today.  I got nine out of ten, which was a relief.  Elrohir got eleven out of ten. I'm not entirely sure how that's even possible.  Our prof must've failed the unit on fractions and percentages back in grade three.  
  
September 30th  
  
Aerthos was not in class today.  My hopes of actually asking for his phone number were crushed.  I spent another evening alone at the computer.  I'm getting really good at Minesweeper.  
  
October 2nd  
  
Aerthos was not in class today either.  I am starting to worry.  It would be highly unlikely that he was just a figment of my rather desperate imagination, but the way my life has been going lately, I wouldn't be too surprised if that turned out to be the case.  I hope he's back on Tuesday.  I need something to agonise over, and schoolwork just doesn't seem interesting enough this term.  
  
October 4th  
  
The phone rang shortly after six this morning.  It was Arwen.  She doesn't seem to understand the concept of time zones, nor the fact that it's several hours earlier here than in Minas Tirith.  
  
She started off thanking me for the nice postcard I sent, which in truth I had completely forgotten about. I think I wrote something vague like, "Dear Arwen, having a great time and thinking of you here in the Grey Havens."  But Arwen loves getting mail.  Really, she loves anything that indicates people are paying attention to her.  So I naturally started off asking about how her new married life is going.   
  
For the first ten minutes, she praised Aragorn about this, that and the other thing, saying how he's so sweet and considerate and adorable.  But gradually the complaints came out.  Her main grievance was that she couldn't understand how somebody like Aragorn, who is used to pooping in the woods, could possibly go through nearly an entire toilet roll per day.  Their toilet roll budget is hovering around $10 a week.  She banged on about this for a good twenty minutes, down to the last detail.  She has it worked out that she goes to the biff an average of four times per day, and uses an average of eleven squares per go.  There are four hundred squares on a roll, so even considering that Aragorn eats more and maybe goes to the biff five times per day, using fifteen squares per go, they shouldn't between the two of them go through more than an average of 119 squares per day, or 30% of a roll. And that's not even taking into consideration that she's only been monitoring toilet roll usage for their en-suite bathroom and that Aragorn could very well be going in other bathrooms around the house too.  Also that he is a man and doesn't really need toilet roll at all when he pees.  The whole situation is rather perplexing.  
  
I listened to her complain about that and other stuff (he leaves stubble in the basin after trimming his beard, his toenails are long and pokey, he sometimes forgets to brush his teeth before bed when he's had meat lover's pizza for supper).  Slowly it dawned on me that she needs a hobby to take her mind off of Aragorn's shortfalls.  I think I'll have to send her a book on knitting or something.   
  
By twenty after eight she had more or less talked herself out, so I let her go with a promise that I'd send her another postcard sometime.  Then I climbed back into bed, but I kept having dreams about Aragorn on the toilet, so I got up again and played Minesweeper for a while before it was time to go for breakfast.  Next time Arwen rings, I'll let her complain to Elrohir.  
  
October 5th  
  
Entirely uneventful weekend.  I didn't even see Elrohir around at all.  The most exciting thing that happened to me was that I beat the medium level on Minesweeper.  I rang dad but nothing too interesting was happening in Rivendell either.  He and Erestor were having a fight over alleged defamation in front of the dishwasher repairman.  Apparently Erestor had put Dawn liquid in the dishwasher instead of Cascade liquid, causing much foam all over the kitchen floor and a burned-out dishwasher motor.  When the repairman asked who put the wrong soap in, Erestor said, "Elrond did it."  The repairman gave dad a "look".  Dad was so upset over being wrongfully embarrassed that he hasn't spoken to Erestor since.  
  
About two hours later Erestor rang to inform me that though it had been he who put the wrong liquid in the dishwasher, it was actually dad's fault since he refilled the Cascade bottle with Dawn and neglected to tell Erestor of the switch.  I made sure to thank him for taking time out of his busy schedule to tell me this.  
  
October 6th  
  
I ended up skipping Conversational Quenya today in favour of playing Minesweeper.  I'm sure Elrohir will tell me what I missed.  I only left my room twice all day, for lunch and supper.  I didn't really want to leave the computer, my usage of which is starting to reach potentially harmful proportions.  I'm starting to feel a sense of loss whenever I turn it off.  
  
October 7th  
  
Aerthos is back!  His cousin Gwethaer was getting married last week, he said, so his entire family flew to Dol Amroth for the wedding.  We talked for nearly an hour in the corridor after class.  I forgot to ask him for his number, though.  I think I might be stupid.  
  
October 9th  
  
I forgot again.  Actually, that's not quite true.  I had the thought to ask for his number lingering in the back of my mind.  But the opportune moment never came.  Then he left in a hurry to catch the bus.  This isn't going very well at all.  
  
October 10th  
  
The Conversational Quenya prof has assigned our final project.  It's in groups of four this time, so Elrohir and I are working with two dunces named Talathuir and Nova.  Talathuir is from Mirkwood and can't speak Quenya to save his life, and Nova is just sort of dumb overall.  The most interesting thing about her is that her parents claim she was conceived in the back of a Chevy Nova (hence the peculiar name).  
  
All three of us quickly agreed that Elrohir should be in charge of planning everything.  Elrohir agreed to this as well.  I don't even want to think about what he has in mind.  As long as I get a good mark, it'll all be fine by me.  
  
October 12th  
  
I'm sure I would have had an interesting weekend if I would've remembered to ask Aerthos for his phone number.  
  
Arwen rang this morning to say that she was on the cover of Vanity Fair, then grandma rang to say the same thing, then dad.  I pretended I was happy for her.  Dad also told me that Erestor was awarded second prize in a limerick contest from Home Depot.  He won a windsock shaped like a fish.  Then later Elrohir said he saw the weatherman from channel seven in the uni bookshop.  
  
Exciting stuff happens to everyone but me!  
  
October 13th  
  
I think Monday the 13th must be just as unlucky as Friday.  First, I forgot to set my alarm, so I didn't wake up in time to shower before Conversational Quenya.  We had a test in class, too.  When I finally did get time to shower, first I forgot my shampoo. Then when I went back to get my shampoo I must've left my towel on my bed.  I had to get dressed soaking wet to walk back to my room, then rush to dry off and get dressed again when I saw the time.  In PSCI 412 I got my tangled, damp hair caught on a screw in the back of my chair somehow.  I had to wait until the end of class for the prof to get out his scissors and free me.  I breathed a sigh of relief to finally get back to my room, then promptly stubbed my toe on my desk chair.  
  
But the crowning turd on this dung-heap of a day came when Elrohir stopped by to inform me that, in a fit of Nintendo-induced excitement, he'd spilled an entire can of Fresca on his mattress and needs to share my room while it dries.  I will surely go crazy.  I go crazy sharing a bedroom with him, let alone a single bed.  
  
October 14th  
  
I got little sleep last night due to- who else!- Elrohir.  For the first hour he talked about bugs and spiders while eating Pringles and getting crumbs in the sheets.  For the second hour he poked my face and kept asking, "Are you asleep?"  When he finally dozed off, he breathed through pursed lips and made a high-pitched whistling noise.  After twenty minutes of that I felt like tearing my ears off, so something had to be done.  As carefully as possible I tried to roll him onto the floor, but he sort of landed with a thud and woke up.  He looked around blearily for a moment before asking, "Where did all the people go?"  I pretended to be asleep.  He climbed back into bed. Within ten minutes he was whistling again.  I must've eventually fallen asleep because I woke up some time later when his arm reached under my pillow.  To retrieve some secret Oreos he'd stashed there, he explained.  
  
When I woke up this morning I had a crashing headache and a piece of my hair was in Elrohir's mouth, covered in slime and Oreo crumbs.  I got dressed, went to class, and spent the next several hours contemplating how to dispose of him.  It wasn't until I got back to my room that I realised I hadn't spoken to Aerthos at all.  And with my luck, he probably thinks I'm ignoring him now!  This is just great!  And entirely Elrohir's fault!  
  
October 15th  
  
This morning I awoke to Elrohir colouring on my shoulder with a Jiffy marker.  Unable to hold back the rage any longer, I punched him in the groin.  He started giggling.  I pulled back the blankets to see what was so funny, since I hit him pretty hard and I'd hoped he'd at least say "ow".  He was wearing about ten pairs of trousers, most of them mine.  I punched him in the stomach instead.  He fell out of bed and started rolling around on the floor laughing like an idiot.  I ended up having to wrestle with him just to steal back a pair of jeans so I could get dressed for class.  I also kicked him several times for good measure while he was rolling.  
  
He was still on the floor when I returned, though he had stopped rolling.  He was unwrapping Kraft caramels and smushing them into an enormous wad to eat at a later date.  Sometimes I really, really wonder what it must be like to be Elrohir.  Does he know he's an idiot, or is he too blissfully ignorant to figure that out?  
  
October 16th  
  
Last night I went to Elrohir's room to check out his mattress.  It went "squish".  I think he might've spilled more than a can of Fresca on there.  But I gathered up the non-Fresca-covered blankets and hauled them back to my room, along with his pillow. Then I proceeded to make a nest for Elrohir in the hidey-hole under my desk.  It was just big enough for him to curl up in.  He was thrilled.  I was likewise thrilled to have him out of my bed.  I actually managed to get a decent sleep, and Elrohir was still sleeping soundly when I got up to go to class.  With any luck, he'll stay asleep until his mattress is dry.  
  
I made sure to let Aerthos know that I wasn't ignoring him today.  He seemed a bit distant though.  I hope he's not upset over my near-homicidal behaviour on Tuesday.  
  
October 18th  
  
Elrohir is still living in the hidey-hole, though he's made a few "improvements".  His nest now has a radio, a snack stash, and a picture of a lizard from a Telus ad he printed off the internet.  I'm starting to worry that he won't want to move out once his mattress is dry.  Such things are a real danger when dealing with Elrohir.  
  
October 19th  
  
It is becoming increasingly difficult to use the computer with Elrohir living under my desk.  He keeps tickling my ankle and telling me it's a spider.  I've not played Minesweeper in over 48 hours.  Which I suppose is a good thing.  Maybe Elrohir does have a few convoluted, roundabout uses after all.  
  
October 20th  
  
Talathuir and Nova came by after supper to work on our Quenya project.  It was a bit cramped with four of us in my room, so we went to the library.  We managed to accomplish the following:  
  
1) Talathuir will play the role of a tourist from Mirkwood who can't speak Quenya.  
2) Nova will be a voice that is heard only over the telephone.  
3) I will be the narrator.  
4) Elrohir will have exponentially more lines than anyone else.  
  
We still don't know what this project will be about, other than that a tourist from Mirkwood is somehow involved.  We're having another meeting on Friday. Hopefully something will be decided by then, since this is due in one month and we really need to get started.  It's worth 35% of our final grade.  
  
October 21st  
  
I just realised that all of my term projects and papers are due in less than a month.  Including my media project with Aerthos.  I really should get around to asking him for his number instead of just acting casually disinterested as overcompensation for my fear that he'll think I'm too eager and desperate (which I am, but I can't let him know that).  That approach is getting me nowhere.  
  
October 23rd  
  
Still nowhere.  Crap!  Though on the plus side, I got started on my history term paper.  I now have a topic and a vague mental outline of what I might think about doing.  
  
October 24th  
  
Elrohir is having another toga party tonight.  He's wearing his spare sheet.  He offered to lend me his main sheet to wear, since mine is (very unfortunately) hideously jewel-toned and completely inappropriate. However, as I'm not too keen on wearing a sticky Fresca sheet as a toga and acting like a moron among people I don't know and don't like, I think I might have to pass.  
  
October 26th  
  
I woke up early this morning to Elrohir shifting around and dropping things.  It was six o'clock.  He had just realised, after a cryptic dream, that he can flip his mattress over and use the non-sticky side, so he was going back to his own room.  He didn't explain why he was doing so right then instead of waiting until a decent time.  And I didn't really care.  I was just glad to have him gone.  His antics drive me mad.  And everything he does can be reasonably classified as "antics".  
  
Since I was already up, and it was later in Rivendell, I decided to ring dad.  I figured he'd be awake, so naturally I was a bit surprised when a sleepy voice came over the line.  It was Erestor.  I asked him if dad was up.  He said, "Just a second..."  Then I distinctly heard him say in the background, "It's for you," before dad came on a second later.  Something wasn't right there. But I chatted with dad for a few minutes anyhow.  It was only several minutes later, after I'd hung up, that I realised the only way for dad and Erestor to be a) asleep and b) within an arm's reach of each other was if they WERE IN BED TOGETHER!!!  
  
I rang back straight away.  Erestor answered again.  I asked, "Are you in bed with my dad?!"  I heard him say "Nnnnrrrr..." and heard something that sounded rather like him flopping backward onto pillows before dad picked up.  Again I asked, "Are you two in bed together?!" to which dad groggily said, "Look, I'm too tired to talk about this now- I'll ring you back in a few hours."  He never did.  
  
All I can say is that I'm shocked and appalled!  Dad! And ERESTOR!!!  That's just wrong on every conceivable level!  I mean, dad and anybody is pretty wrong, but Erestor?!  
  
I went to tell Elrohir, but he just sort of nodded and said, "Dude, that's weird," without even looking up from the Playstation.  I didn't try for a better response.  Though on my way out I noted that he'd flipped up his mattress into sort of a tent against the wall.  He's probably planning to sleep under it just for the novelty.  
  
October 28th  
  
I was close to asking Aerthos for his number today but visions of dad and Erestor kept interrupting my concentration.  The fact that I've seen Erestor naked before sure wasn't helping matters any.  As a result, the best I got was a plan to meet after class on Thursday to discuss the project.  
  
October 29th  
  
I think Nova has a crush on Elrohir.  After class today she asked me if he's seeing anyone.  I said, "Only Potpourri in Harvest Moon."  She gave me a blank stare.  "It's a game," I said.  "One in which you have to run a farm and marry one of the town girls."  She continued giving me a blank stare.  "A video game," I said.  More blank stare.  "For Nintendo."  She raised an eyebrow in confusion.  "He's single and looking," I said.  She smiled at that and trotted away.  
  
I didn't have the heart to tell her that if she doesn't know what Nintendo is, she doesn't stand a chance.  
  
Also, I haven't heard back from dad yet on that whole in-bed-with-Erestor situation.  I think I'm going to have to assume that he's counting on me forgetting about it.  I'll have to ring again early Sunday morning to see if the same thing happens.  
  
October 30th  
  
I am supposed to go to a PoliSci Balathin cabaret tomorrow, though I am somewhat torn.  I want to go because Aerthos will be there, and it would be an excuse to talk to him in a non-school-related way.  I don't want to go because the only remotely costumey thing I have here is a dumb vampire cape.  I want to go because paralysers are on the drink special.  I don't want to go because I hate uni cabarets.  Maybe I should toss a coin.   
  
Oh, who am I kidding.  If Aerthos is going, I'll be there.  We talked about it during our brief project meeting today, which, I might add, was dissatisfyingly on-topic, and he said he's going.  
  
October 31st  
  
I am involved in the most peculiar Balathin scheme Elrohir has ever thought up.  He is being me.  I am being him.  For an entire 24 hours.  We used to play "switch" all the time when we were little, but never for this long.  It's proving to be something of a challenge.  
  
Just before midnight last night, Elrohir banged on my door.  Even before I could open it all the way he whispered excitedly, "Elladan I have the best idea ever!"  Naturally I started to worry.  He went on to explain that for Balathin, we were going to be each other.  Switch clothes, switch rooms, switch classes, switch everything, until midnight.  I asked him if he thought this was a good idea.  He said the plan was flawless.  For some reason I didn't trust him.  But still, I went along with it.  
  
Some minutes later I was in Elrohir's room getting ready to go to sleep.  His floor was so entirely covered with random stuff that I had a hard time getting from the door too the bed.  Though the bed really looked more like a nest.  There was a heap of disordered blankets and a towel covering his mattress.  I tried to sleep without the towel, but I guess he hadn't changed his sheets since the Fresca incident, because they were all sticky.  The towel came back, but it was scratchy.  As can be imagined, I didn't sleep very well.  
  
Elrohir's Alarm went off at 10-15.  Conversational Quenya starts at 10-30.  I had just enough time to leap out of bed in horror, throw on the clothes Elrohir had left in a wad on the floor (turned out to be a pirate costume) and grab his backpack before taking off in a mad dash for class.  When I got there, Elrohir was already in my seat, hair neatly plaited. He was wearing my best corduroy shirt.  He gave me an exasperated look, which is probably exactly what I would have done had he shown up for class five minutes late and crashed into the overhead projector.  We ended up having a pop quiz on cases, which is just my luck!  The one day we do something I'm good at and Elrohir gets the credit!  I got 19 out of 20 for him. He got 13 for me.  I can never win in that class.  
  
Next he had Narrative Film Studies in the Education Building auditorium, so I got to go watch a video for two hours and then discuss it.  And this counts for three credits!  I think I'm taking all the wrong courses.  I should be enrolled in some of these movie-watching classes.  It ended at five, just in time for supper, so I went back to the residence and headed for the cafeteria. The supper lady gave me an extra bun because I was dressed like a pirate.  
  
I was just about to go get ready for the cabaret when I realised, with some measure of panic, that I am unable to go.  I have to go to Elrohir's dumb theatre cabaret, and Elrohir will be going to the PoliSci in my place!  And I also realised that Aerthos, mistaking him for me, will be accidentally snubbed and all my chances will be ruined!  I ran to my room trying to find Elrohir, but he was nowhere to be found.  My cabaret ticket was nowhere to be found.  I know I left it on the magnet board.  This can only mean that he's taken it and intends to go.  I have to find him. I know he'll have no fun in a multipurpose room full of PoliSci majors, so it shouldn't be too hard to convince him to give up on our ruse a bit early.  I hope...  



	15. The Elladan Show: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

November 1st  
  
It is slightly past noon.  I have just gotten out of bed.  Aerthos has just left to go home.  I think the whole story needs a once-over.  
  
I hung about the entrance to the PoliSci cabaret last night for a while before it opened, hoping to catch Elrohir before he arrived.  I saw neither him nor Aerthos.  After about an hour of nothing, it occurred to me that Elrohir might have made for the Theatre cabaret to talk to me.  So I went over there.  Also no Elrohir.  I hung about at that entrance for about twenty minutes before someone, who turned out to be Nova, came and grabbed my arm.  I had to dance with her for what seemed like eternity, all the while pretending to be Elrohir and all the while worrying about what was going on over at the PoliSci cabaret (probably chaos, with Elrohir right in the thick if it).  Nova kept "accidentally" touching me in inappropriate places.  
  
"You seem a bit distracted," she said.  "Is something wrong?"  "No no, I'm fine," I said.  Then I remembered I had to talk like Elrohir, so I added, "dude."  She gave me sort of a funny look.  I know I'm not a very good actor, but I had to keep up the charade.  I did the first Elrohirish thing that popped into my head.  "Guess what?" I asked.  She blinked and said, "What?"  I grinned like an idiot and yelled, "Chicken butt!"  This was followed by "Guess why?", "Guess who?", and "Guess how come?", all with answers pertaining to some chicken body part or bodily function.  Afterward Nova was sufficiently pleased with my level of Elrohirishness, so we went to go stand in the drinks queue for vodka coolers.  
  
I had to use up so much concentration on being Elrohir that I lost track of the time.  It has never occurred to me before just how much energy he must go through in a day.  No wonder he sleeps so much.  When I finally thought to check my watch, it was three minutes past midnight.  I quickly excused myself, telling Nova I had to go find "Elladan" for a minute, and promised I'd be back.  Then I took off running from the theatre building to the Uni Centre.  I arrived to the very welcome sight of Elrohir standing around outside the multipurpose room looking bored.  He was wearing my vampire cape.  "I want to change back into me now," he said. "Your social life sucks."  I had no complaints about that suggestion, so we headed for the gents' toilets.  
  
Once we had switched clothes and officially changed back into ourselves, I briefed Elrohir on the Nova situation, including a list of all the jokes I'd gone through (Guess what/chicken butt, knock knock/who's there/grape, owah tagoo siam, and so forth).  He should be able to pick it up from there.  Then I asked him what he did all evening.  He said, "Not much," and shrugged.  "Just hung out, looked at people.  You know, stuff.  Oh yeah, and I kissed that dude over there."  Shocked, I spun around to see who he was gesturing to and almost fainted when I saw Aerthos standing at the end of the corridor sort of waving lamely at me.  I would have grabbed Elrohir and made him explain everything in excruciating detail, but he was already off and running to his own cabaret to tell more lame jokes to Nova.  I had no choice but to try to go along with his severely inadequate information.  
  
Thus, doing the most logical thing I could think of, I walked over to Aerthos.  And since my head was already spinning and my hands were shaking and I figured I might as well apply all this nervousness to a worthy cause, I kissed him right there in the corridor.  He didn't yell or run away or anything, which was good.  He did look a bit surprised, but in a smiley good way.  "What was that for?" he asked.  "No reason," I said.  Then, since the kiss had gone well and thought I might as well try my luck, I asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"  He smiled and said, "Sure.  Where do we go?"  I decided to keep pressing my luck.  "I live in the Mindon Residence- really close.  We could go there and watch a movie or something."  "Cool," he said with a nod.  
  
When we got back to my room, he looked over the DVD collection while I changed out of the clothes that Elrohir picked and into something that doesn't need to be ironed.  He picked Star Wars to watch, which seemed like a logical choice because we'd both probably seen it fifty times before and  by that point we both knew we wouldn't be paying much attention to the movie.  I think we stopped watching sometime around when the Princess' ship is picked up by Darth Vader's.    
  
All was well until around three, when just as we were drifting off to sleep, the door opened.  Elrohir peeked in.  He waved to Aerthos and said "Hi" before asking, "Do you have any thingies?"  "What thingies?" I asked.  "You know," he said.  "Those thingies that you use."  I got out of bed and went to the door.  "What exactly do you want?" I asked.  "Thingies" he repeated, more urgently.  I looked toward his door.   Nova was standing there, giggling.  "OH," I said in a voice somewhat louder than was necessary, "you mean CONDOMS."  "Yeah," he said.  "Those thingies."  
  
"No," I said, "I'm not Glorfindel.  Try asking the machine in the biff.  It sells them."  He sort of nodded and was about to walk away, but then he turned back and asked, "Do you have some change I could borrow?"  I slammed the door and propped my desk chair up against it, just in case.  When I got back into bed Aerthos was laughing.  "Your brother's adorable," he said.  I had to assure him that Elrohir is not adorable- he's exasperating.  We argued over whether Elrohir is adorable or exasperating for the next few hours before finally getting to sleep.  
  
And that brings me to now.  Overall, the start of this weekend has been very much to my satisfaction.  Very much.  
  
November 2nd  
  
I made sure to set the alarm for four this morning so I'd be able to ring dad and see if he's in bed with Erestor again.  Given the time difference, it was seven there and still early enough for them to be asleep.  At four minutes after four I dialled home, and a few seconds later dad picked up.  I asked to speak to Erestor, please.  Dad said, "Nrrrjussminnuh..." and passed the phone to Erestor.  Erestor said, rather groggily, "Hello?" and I yelled, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF ELBERETH ARE YOU DOING IN BED WITH MY DAD?!"  
  
"Bugger..." he muttered, then hung up the phone without another word.  "Bugger" is probably right!  And two weekends in a row!  I'm not going to let this slip by, no way!  I'll keep telephoning every Sunday until they explain things to me.  
  
November 3rd  
  
Dad rang tonight, just as I was about to leave to go wash up and brush my teeth before bed.  He started into the explanation straight away, saying, "Look, Elladan, I know this is unexpected but you're going to have to accept it."  He then went on to say that he and Erestor have actually been "sort of" together ever since Gil-galad died, though they'd been keeping it a secret from everyone.  But, now that mum's gone, Glorfindel's moved away, and Elrohir, Arwen and I are out of the house, they felt it was safe to be a bit more open about it.  
  
So this has been going on for nearly 3020 years and nobody had any idea!  And now I'm not supposed to tell anyone.  Actually, dad said I can tell Elrohir, because he won't care, but I can't tell Arwen, because it would make her upset.  I made him promise he'd eventually tell her, though.  He said he would.  Someday.  Which I take to mean, "many years in the future when she's distracted by screaming children and won't be paying attention."  I also asked what he's going to do about mum when he moves to Aman.  He said he'd worry about figuring that out when the time came.  He has no sense of planning.  
  
Before I went to bed, I told Elrohir about the dad-Erestor situation.  Dad was right.  He didn't care.  I think I'm going to have to tell Aerthos though.  This is just too strange not to tell.  I don't think dad will mind.    
  
November 4th  
  
Aerthos came by for a meeting after class, which involved a satisfactory combination of fooling around and actually getting work done.  We scanned a few photos of dad, Erestor, Glorfindel, grandma, and grandpa onto diskettes to use in a Power Point presentation.  Then I rang dad to ask him to send me all the old video tapes and Super 8 reels of home movies he can find, since I need them for a class project.  I didn't say what the class project is about.  Then, after Aerthos and I decided we had no desire to do any more schoolwork, we sort of watched The Empire Strikes Back.  
  
I made sure to get his telephone number before he left.  He wrote it on a piece of masking tape and stuck it to my phone.  After he was gone I surreptitiously added it to my memory dial.  He's number five, after dad, dad's work, grandma and grandpa, and Arwen.  
  
November 7th  
  
Aerthos and I are going out tonight.  When he asked me yesterday if I wanted to go out somewhere tonight, it made me suddenly realise that I've not been off uni property since September when I went to the bus depot to pick up the box dad sent.  And that made me realise that my life must be very sad indeed.  I should make a point of going out more.  Even if it's only to wander around downtown and get leered at by bums.  
  
LATER: I just remembered why I don't like wandering around downtown.  Apart from the getting leered at by bums, I mean.  In September I tripped over an exceptionally large cobblestone on the way to the bus depot, which caused me to smear mustard from the hotdog I was eating all down the front of my favourite jacket.  The jacket still has a mustard stain, since I haven't left uni property to go to the drycleaners yet.  
  
November 8th  
  
I ended up staying over at Aerthos' place last night.  He lives in a rental house near the uni with a roommate, who wasn't home.  His roommate, I found out, is deeply religious and had gone to some sort of youth group retreat for the terminally self-righteous.  I mean, for the weekend.  There was a poster of Elbereth in the front room, a little ceramic light-up Elbereth on top of the stereo, one of those country-craft-type wall hangings with a cross-stitch of Elbereth in the corridor to the bathroom, a set of embossed cardboard Valar standees on an end table by the window, and a fibre-optics picture of Taniquetil above the sofa.  It was a bit distracting and overbearing in a shameful sort of way, so we had to spend the night hidden in Aerthos' room, well away from Elbereth's melancholy gaze.  I think we watched a DVD of Cabaret, but I'm not sure.  
  
Earlier we had tried going out to a restaurant, but that turned out to be less fun than anticipated.  Aerthos doesn't have a car, and the only restaurant within walking distance is the crappy pizza place across the parkway from the uni.  I had a small cheese pizza, which was thankfully uneventful.  Aerthos ordered spaghetti.  He found something that looked like a Bic's Yum Yum hidden amongst the noodles.  We decided not to stay for dessert and left as soon as possible, which really wasn't very soon at all since our waitress spent a disproportionate amount of time ignoring us while standing in the smoking section having a cigarette with her friends.  
  
So, my adventure out into the beyond-uni world turned out to be no more exciting than any adventure that could theoretically be had on university property.  I will have to insist on Aerthos coming over here from now on.  My room might be tiny, but at least it's devoid of fibre optics religious art.  Plus, the cafeteria here doesn't have smoking waitresses or random gherkins in the pasta.  
  
November 9th  
  
Aerthos stopped by to bring me oranges just as I was writing an email to Glorfindel to tell him about the religious kitsch.  He explained that he used to live in residence and knew all about the unsatisfactory fruit supply in Mindon.  I was thankful for his concern, but also at the same time a bit worried that maybe he's crazy.  I mean, really!  Who brings anyone oranges?!  Has he been taking classes from Elrohir's School of Awesomeness?  
  
Though to be completely fair, he was wearing a tight black shirt.  That sort of made up for the peculiar behaviour.  
  
November 10th  
  
The entire Quenya class today was spent working on our group assignment.  We have one line of dialogue so far.  It goes something like this:  
  
Talathuir:  (approaches Elrohir, who is sitting at an information desk) Aiya nildo!  Essenya Talatoiron.  Utúlien Laitaurello Tol Eressëanna ar lá quetin Quenya.  
  
That's as far as we got before arguments arose over how to properly translate "Talathuir" and "from Mirkwood".  I don't care what Elrohir says; trying to get Talathuir to say "Ezellatavazello" just isn't practical or sensible, considering that he can't even say "Quenya" properly.  This Vanyarin fascination is becoming a serious hindrance, not only to Elrohir but also potentially to my mark in this class.  
  
November 11th  
(Anniversary of the Defeat of Sauron in the Last Alliance)  
  
My PoliSci 412 term paper is due tomorrow.  I awoke in a panic this morning suddenly realising that I'd forgotten completely and hadn't started yet.  I think I might be in trouble.  
  
November 12th  
  
I just handed in the term paper, having finished a grand seven minutes before class ended.  The prof gave me a dirty look for skipping class and handing it in right at the end, but I don't care.  It's done.  It's only eight pages long and thoroughly terrible, but at least it's done.  I might have to rely on the final to bring my grade up.  
  
Now I am going to go back to the library and get to work on my 441 paper, since it's due on Monday and has to be at least thirty pages.  How does this happen?!  I spend all semester doing nothing, and now suddenly everything is due next week!  I think the speed at which time passes must be directly proportional to the amount of homework due in the immediate future.  If I were in physics instead of political science, I would look into that.  
  
November 13th  
  
Aerthos had words with me before class today.  Apparently I was supposed to meet him after class on Tuesday, which I skipped in favour of writing my forgotten paper.  We were supposed to work on our media project.  Now that I think about it, I vaguely remember him saying something to that effect over the weekend.  I tried to apologise, but he remained sort of distant all through class.  We organised another meeting, though, for tomorrow evening.  And none too soon, since we really need to get to work.  The project is due in one week and all we have so far is a crappy Power Point presentation of scanned photos and some home movies.  
  
November 14th  
  
It is midnight.  Aerthos just left.  I was quite impressed by his ability to use Windows Movie Maker, a program which has thus far been present in my Start menu but remained something of an enigma.  
  
It took eight hours, but we managed (occasionally via roundabout ways) to load all the home movies onto my computer and edit them into a four-minute sequence.  We even added some music in places.  So that, coupled with the five-minute Power Point show, brings our presentation up to nine minutes.  We need half an hour by Thursday.  I hope the class has a lot of questions to fill up the time.  
  
After our work session, Aerthos left without so much as a goodbye kiss!  I think he's still mad at me for skipping on Tuesday.  Also perhaps because I told him I couldn't work on the project tomorrow because I have to work on my 441 paper.  He is quite selfish, I think.  If it were up to him all we'd ever do is go for coffee in the Uni Centre and have sex.  Actually if it were up to me, that's all we'd do too.  But unfortunately it's up to dad right now, and he's expecting me to pass this semester.  
  
November 16th  
  
I invited Aerthos to come by and work on our project for a while but he said he was busy.  I asked busy doing what, but he wouldn't say.  I told him I needed relief from the drudgery of slogging through stacks of musty old PoliSci books from forgotten corners of the library, one of which smelled like rotten paint, but he was rather unsympathetic.  He'd better be doing actual schoolwork and not just acting like this because he's mad at me!  
  
As soon as I had fifteen pages of my paper written and was officially halfway done, I took a break to go see if Elrohir wanted to go buy sandwiches or something.  I knocked on his door and he answered, wearing naught but lime green underoos.  I asked why he wasn't dressed, though as soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted it since I knew his answer wouldn't make sense anyway.  It didn't.  "I work better when I don't have clothes to distract me," he said.  I asked what he was working on, and he said, "Quenya."  I tried to be worried, but in all honesty I think my relief that somebody was actually getting something done outweighed the concern that it would incorporate a great deal of Vanyarin words and other nonsense.  
  
I decided I'd be best off forgetting about Quenya though and just enjoying my break from the 441 paper.  I asked Elrohir if he wanted to go for sandwiches.  He said, "Yes!" very enthusiastically and started off down the corridor toward the lifts.  If I were a more evil person, which I really wish sometimes, I would have let him go in just his green underwear.  But unfortunately I am too nice for my own good, so I called him back and made him get dressed.  He pulled on some gym shorts and a mesh shirt.  I'm not sure if that was an improvement over the underwear, but I didn't really care so long as he was technically dressed.  I followed him down to the cafeteria.  I had a nice break listening to him recount the mind-boggling tale of the icy square chocolate he found under the radiator that miraculously wasn't melted.  He thinks it might be a religious icon, or perhaps a scientific marvel of the modern age.  
  
When I got back to my room I played two rounds of pinball, two games of Freecell, and looked up random words on Google for a while.  I think I should get started on the other half of my term paper soon.  It's due in two days and I have fifteen more pages to go.  
  
November 17th  
  
I skipped Quenya in favour of working on my paper.  I'm sure I didn't miss anything, and Elrohir's working on the presentation anyway.  So my entire day was full of:  
  
The city-state model outlined by Pengoloð in his analysis of post-war political structures can therefore be clearly traced back to earlier models presented by Rúmil in his Democracy treatise.  Rúmil's "Tirion" model, when loosely placed in comparison to later theories forwarded by Pengoloð, is applicable not only to the timeframe in which it was postulated but also to supervening governments with roots, however tenuous, in classical Western theory.  With few modifications, both models can be applied successfully to modern-day Mithlond, Imladris, and Lórien as a whole, this being indicative of the potential "universal city-state" as touched briefly upon in The Declining Superpower (ibid. 557).  
  
I swear that made sense when I wrote it, but now that I look back, I have no idea what in the world I was trying to say.  I'm concerned that I might be getting stupider.  
  
November 18th  
  
I finished the paper last night.  It's only 28 1/2 pages long, including notes and bibliography, so I hope I don't lose marks.  Now I just have to write my history paper tonight (which I very thankfully already have started), then finish the media project with Aerthos for Thursday and work on the Quenya presentation for Friday, and I'll be all set!  Somehow that seems like too much work.  
  
Aerthos frowned at me in class today, then afterward came over saying that we really needed to finish the project.  I suggested working on it tomorrow.  He asked why not tonight, and I explained about the history paper.  He scowled and stormed out of the classroom in a huff.  I followed close behind.  He went into the biff.  I still followed.  He tried to shut himself into a stall but I followed him there too and gave him a thorough kissing while pressed up against the graffiti-covered metal wall.  That seemed to work.  He apologised for being a knob and I had the sudden realisation that I can always hand in my history paper a week late and only lose 5%.  Funny how kissing in a public toilet can make everything better, even though you'd suspect from its unattractive décor and general level of filthiness that it would offer little in the way of helping.  
  
Anyway he's coming by in about an hour to work on the media project.  And by "work on the media project" I really mean "maybe work on the media project, if we remember and can find our clothes."  
  
November 19th  
  
Aerthos stayed over last night.  So we could work on the media project until the last possible minute, of course.  
  
It's almost done.  Last night we cut together another segment of newsreels to show alongside the home videos, to highlight how different politicians are in real life as opposed to what they appear to be like on television.  Then we worked on the script of what we'll say to the class.  So tonight all that's left to do is fine-tune the script part and do a run-through of the Power Point.  I am feeling quite relieved.  
  
November 20th  
  
We finished the media presentation at eight-twenty last night.  That called for a celebration, so we went to Taco Time and had celebratory burritos, with extra sauce.  Then we came back to my room and had celebratory smooches as we basked in the glory of having finished the damn assignment on time.  
  
Just before midnight, as we were lying on my bed and sort of watching Return of the Jedi, the door burst open and Elrohir peered inside.  I really, really, need to get that keycode changed, since I know that trying to explain to him the courtesy of knocking would be a wasted effort.  He looked at us, sort of nodded hello, then proceeded to sit down, turn on my computer, and monkey around with it.  I politely asked what in the world he was doing.  He said, "Quenya," and kept monkeying.  I honestly tried to just stay where I was and let him do his thing, but with each passing second I became more and more convinced that he was about to accidentally delete some critical Windows file.  Worry eventually won out and I got up to supervise his computer usage.  
  
"There," he said, pointing to a file he had saved to my desktop, "you'd better learn that by Friday."  Then he left as unexpectedly as he had come.  I opened the file, and it turned out to be a nine-page-long Word document.  I did a quick scan for my name.  I have twenty-four lines.  I am never going to learn all that in time.  I must've made some sort of despairing sound, because Aerthos said, "Just come back to bed and worry about it tomorrow."  I did go back to bed, but I kept worrying and couldn't sleep.  The last thing I remember before the alarm went off was looking at the clock and seeing 5.53 am.  When I finally did get to sleep, I had a stressful dream about Elrohir being run over by a ferris wheel and me having to sell state-of-the-art transparent computers door to door to get enough money to pay for a specialist Hobbit surgeon to reattach his legs after the accident.  Then dad started yelling at me for showing orcs the secret path to get into the front yard.  Then I woke up, feeling even more exhausted than when I went to bed.  
  
I took Aerthos down to the cafeteria for breakfast and we both apathetically picked over the selection of rubbery eggs and cold toast.  There wasn't even any jam left, so we had to have peanut butter.  Then I got changed into my fancy Noldo costume for the presentation, and Aerthos borrowed Elrohir's.  I'm not sure why we thought this was a good idea.  The costumes didn't really make us look more respectable at all: just a bit more ridiculous.  Also, Aerthos got his sleeve caught in the security door on the way out of the residence building, and the door made a small black grease smudge on the fabric.  I hope Elrohir doesn't notice.  These things cost a fortune to dry clean.  
  
But, barring the sleeve mishap, the rest of the day went very well.  We went first with our presentation, and the class seemed to enjoy it.  Especially the part in the video where dad sat down in a broken lawn chair and dropped his plate of coleslaw all down the front of his shirt.  Even the prof laughed out loud at the old super 8 movie of dad and Gil-galad doing tequila shots with Elendil, who was wearing a cowboy hat and had enormous sideburns.  I think that's a good sign.  After class, Aerthos and I went for lunch, still wearing the Noldo costumes.  He dropped a meatball in his lap and got a sauce smudge on the robe.  I hope Elrohir doesn't notice that either.  
  
Now the only thing that's left to do this semester is the Quenya presentation.  I'm supposed to be meeting with Elrohir, Nova, and Talathuir in the library in an hour.  I hope they don't expect me to have this script memorised.  
  
November 21st  
  
I think I can safely say, without any sort of exaggeration, that our Quenya presentation was the best in the class.  Elrohir was the star, since he's easily the best out of all of us.  He played a confused university student (big stretch there).  I played his good conscience, who kept telling him to act responsibly and get his homework done.  His bad conscience was played by a television showing a pre-taped video of him telling himself to go out and get drunk every night.  Talathuir was an exchange student from Mirkwood who was a bad influence on Elrohir, while Nova was the innocent-girl-next-door type who fought valiantly to keep Elrohir on the right track.  Highlights include Elrohir arguing with himself on television, Talathuir playing up his already terrible Silvan accent to hilarious extremes, me hitting Elrohir over the head with a biology textbook, Elrohir and Talathuir's elaborate stage fight (with cardboard Fiommereth wrap tubes painted to look like lightsabres), and Elrohir and Nova's cliché romance movie True-Love-Conquers-All kiss at the end.  The class cheered.  The group that had to go after us looked worried, and rightly so.  Their presentation was about a girl asking for directions to the train station.  
  
Then, since I was in a good schoolwork mood, I was able to quickly finish my History paper.  I emailed it off to the prof, and allowed myself to spend a good seventeen minutes basking in the satisfying glow of my own general stupendousness before going down to the cafeteria for supper.  And it was even pizza night.  I sat with Elrohir, and he ate my pepperoni for me since I don't like meat on pizza.  He provided dinnertime music by singing "Building a Mystery" over and over in many different ways.  Only he kept changing the words, so instead of "building a mystery" he was "kicking the table legs", "taking [his] jacket off", "looking at Elladan", "eating a Dixie cup", and so forth.  
  
November 22nd  
  
The best thing about waking up today was realising that I have nothing to do.  And so I did nothing all day, except ring Aerthos.  He's coming by tomorrow, but today, there was blissfully nothing.  I stayed in bed until two and then watched videos.  Maybe tomorrow I should do something, like go down to residence security and ask them to change the key code on my door so Elrohir can no longer pop in randomly at inopportune moments.  
  
November 23rd  
  
The security technician came up and changed my key code.  The new code is 7294.  I just know I'm going to forget it.  I asked him if he could change it to something I'd remember easily, and suggested perhaps 1532, 3726, or something like that, but he refused, saying that the codes are generated randomly and he has no control over them.  However, I distinctly saw him punch 7294 into the keypad twice and press "set", so I think he was just being surly and uncooperative.  He could've just as easily entered 1532, and made my life much easier by doing so.  
  
Aerthos came by a few hours later.  I thought we'd be just sitting around watching videos as usual, but he wanted to go somewhere.  So we took the bus downtown and went to the public library.  I don't know what it is about public libraries that attracts insane people, but there were two of them fighting over a video copy of "The Thief of Valmar" and another one walking around with a grocery bag full of National Geographics, muttering about feeding the cats.  We ended up quickly picking out a few DVDs and hurrying out.  We were leered at by bums on the bus back to the uni.  We spent the night watching movies in my room, which (I wanted to point out) we could have easily done without the whole traumatic trip to the library.  Next time he wants to go somewhere I will have to remind him of this.  
  
November 24th  
  
We got our marks back for the Quenya presentations today.  Everyone in our group got 25/25.  I might do reasonably well in this class after all.  
  
November 26th  
  
I bought a ticket to the Fiommereth Formal cabaret on Friday.  I don't really want to go, but I figure I might as well since I went through the trouble of getting this dumb formal Noldo costume here and I should probably get some use out of it.  And Aerthos thinks it's attractive in a stuffy old-fashioned sort of way, so...  
  
November 27th  
  
My telephone rang just before four this morning.  At first I didn't want to answer, but then I thought that for somebody to be ringing me at this time it had to be either a family emergency or some knob over long distance who didn't realise what time it was here.  I picked up the phone.  And I was right with my second guess.  
  
It was Glorfindel on the line.  Glorfindel, who hasn't telephoned or written or even emailed in all the three months he's been gone.  Glorfindel, over a terrible long distance connection with a two-second time delay.  He sounded excited.  Crackly and staticky and about to disconnect at any moment, but excited.  
  
Aralindë just had the baby, and Glorfindel is now the very hyperactively excited father of a little boy named Elairon Almárëo.  He is 49 centimetres long and weighs 3,2 kilograms.  I didn't hear any baby wailing in the background, which I mentioned, and Glorfindel said that Elairon doesn't really cry, he squawks.  He then held his mobile closer to Elairon (presumably), and I heard a vague squawking sound.  Then Glorfindel came back on and said that was the most beautiful sound in the world.  I didn't bother to tell him that I think his son sounds like an albatross.  
  
Then Glorfindel hung up.  I think he was trying to telephone everyone he knew in the space of five minutes.  I'm guessing he rang Elrohir next, since shortly after he let me go I heard someone pushing the keypad on my door and then rattling the handle when it mysteriously wouldn't open.  I had to get up and let Elrohir in, who looked about as excited as Glorfindel had sounded.  He bounced around and went on about how much he loves babies.  I told him the baby sounded like an albatross.  He didn't know what an albatross sounded like.  But, since he still had eight hours to go before his first class, he decided to walk down to the docks and find an albatross to listen to.  He came back in time for breakfast, smelling a bit like seaweed, and then spent the rest of the day in bed because he was frozen from sitting on the breakwater in the dark at the end of November like an idiot.  He didn't hear an albatross either, so to cheer him up after supper I found an albatross WAV file online.  He listened to it twenty-six times before I made him leave my room.  
  
November 29th  
  
I don't think the Fiommereth Formal cabaret was significantly different from any other cabaret I've been to, except that everyone was wearing fancier clothing and drinking spiked egg nog instead of beer.  I wore my dumb Noldo costume, which gathered many comments.  Most people said, "Wow, I haven't seen anyone wearing one of those in a long time!"  I will have to tell dad that.  He's still under the impression that they are the height of fashion.  He obviously hasn't looked in PEOPLE magazine since... Well, he's probably never looked in PEOPLE magazine.  Elrohir also sort of wore his Noldo costume.  That is, he wore the drapey robe part over tight vinyl trousers and his mesh shirt.  Somebody took a photo of him for the uni paper.  I sincerely hope this doesn't start a new trend in masculine formalwear.  
  
Aerthos and I stayed around until midnight, when they did the door prize draws.  Neither of us won anything, but Nova won a GHU key chain.  Then the Fiommereth Classics karaoke started up and we knew it was time to leave.  We made our exit just as Elrohir started belting out "Jingle Bell Rock".  He's not the best singer, but he is loud and enthusiastic and had put on a red funfur Aulë hat with a sparkly pompom.  We could hear him down the corridor and halfway across the Uni Centre as we made our way back to the residence.  
  
Back in my room, we had our own private Fiommereth cabaret.  It wasn't nearly as flashy as the one in the Multipurpose Room, but it was very satisfying all the same.  Also, we had a 26 of rum.  
  
December 1st  
  
Last week of classes!  Well, aside from finals, but those don't really count.  We spent the entire Quenya class today singing "Fiommerelindi" and making "hyelleni", which is a fancy way of saying star-shaped tree decorations made out of wax paper.  As soon as class was over I had to look around and check to make sure we were still in university.  
  
Then in PolySci 412 I got my paper back.  On the back page was written, "I am a bit disappointed with your effort here.  Some of this is well written, some of it is not.  You have to be more careful.  60%."  After reading the paper over again, I am a bit disappointed in myself too.  I can't believe I handed in this crap.  
  
December 2nd  
  
I got the 441 paper back today, with a mark of 81%.  I tried to read the prof's comments, but they were largely illegible.  The only words I could make out were "advantageous" and "references".  I'll just have to be happy with the 81 and assume I'm on the right track for the final.  
  
December 3rd  
  
96% on the History paper.  I'm not really sure how that's even possible, since I handed it in late and should've lost 5%.  Actually,  I didn't even technically hand it in.  I emailed it.  The comments said stuff like "excellent job", "poignant observations" and "informatively written."  The girl who sits next to me got a 73 and mediocre comments, even though she worked on her paper for a week and a half and it was a good five pages longer than mine and included many more references.  I'm starting to suspect that the prof just tossed the papers down the stairs and marked according to which ones landed where.  Not that I'm complaining.  This 96 means I only need to get 20% on the final to pass the class.  
  
In Quenya we sang more lindi and made Fiommerel cards for our parents out of construction paper and sparkles.  The prof helped write quaint Quenya sayings inside each of them.  Elrohir had to borrow her big dictionary to look up the Quenya word for "beetle" to write in his.  
  
December 4th  
  
Last day of classes.  Aerthos and I went to the uni pub to celebrate.  We were also celebrating getting a 90 on our in-class presentation.  I figured I deserved it, so I ordered a spicy chicken sandwich.  "Smothered in cheese and jalapenos", the menu read.  It didn't look too smothered when it arrived.  I don't suppose anything can be technically "smothered" in three slices of banana pepper and a Kraft single, except maybe a Triscuit.  Then Aerthos' "loaded" burger came with one slice of bacon, two pickles, one tomato, two onion rings, and a leaf of lettuce on a Kraft Single.  I think this university has started cheating us in the food department as well, since it already charges outrageous tuition prices for mediocre classes, and $1,75 for a 591 ml bottle of Coke that could reasonably be purchased for $1,26 at the convenience store across the Parkway.  
  
When we got back to the residence tower, more end-of-semester celebrations were already in full swing.  Someone had rigged a Fëanorian flag up to the pole on top of the tower, and the residence director was screaming at the custodian to get it down.  Then inside, a group of engineers had hijacked four hapless agriculture freshmen, stripped them down to their shorts, duct taped them to wheelie chairs, and were placing bets on which one would wheel down the big entrance ramp fastest.  Aerthos had to jump to avoid being hit by a crop science major.  By force of habit, I almost turned around to yell at Elrohir to be more careful, but caught myself just in time.  Elrohir was in fact nowhere to be seen.  Which was strange, given that all sorts of trouble was going down wherever I looked.  It made me nervous that he was off somewhere getting into the ultimate trouble.  Aerthos agreed that we should probably look for him.  
  
We found him in his room by himself.  He was lying on his bed reading a book.  Not a comic, and not a magazine: a real book, without pictures.  Tenacious D was playing quietly in the background.  Not playing loudly, nor even at a moderate volume: honest-to-goodness quietly.  And Elrohir was even dressed, in jeans and a GHU tee-shirt.  He looked up at us with a smile and said, "Hello."  I asked him if he was feeling alright.  He said, "Yep," and went back to reading his book.  Aerthos and I looked at each other questioningly, just as a girl in very tight jeans ran up and yelled, "Elrohir, the Coke machine in the basement is broken and giving out Cokes if you put any coins in!  Wanna come check it out?"  I fully expected him to jump up and run after her, since I was tempted to do so myself (having become suddenly very thirsty), but he just rolled over and said, "Nah, I'm gonna have a nap."  He asked me to hit the lights on the way out.  
  
Now I'm seriously worried.  Elrohir appears to have been replaced by a pod person, and a very sensible and studious pod person at that.  I can't think of any instance of him getting into trouble in the last several days.  The last week, even.  I might have to ring dad tonight, after I finish my three 15-cent Diet Vanilla Cokes.  That was all the machine had left by the time I got there.  
  
December 5th  
  
I got a Fiommereth card from Arwen in the post this morning.  I guess she started with the cards even earlier this year, probably to make sure I buy her something fabulous and exotic from the Grey Havens instead of some crap from the Giant Tiger when I get back to Rivendell.  I think I'll get her a book on all the latest Telerin trends in home décor.  Making designer lampshades and slipcovers seems like something she'd do.  
  
I did talk to dad last night about Elrohir, but it was after I'd drank all the Coke and had a stomach ache from all the carbonation.  When dad asked me how I was, I tried to say, "Good," but all that came out was one of the loudest burps I've ever produced.  It was mortifying.  I'm glad I was only talking to dad.  Dad yelled, "Elrohir!" then caught himself and yelled, "I mean, Elladan!"  I stayed silent for a few seconds before I trusted my mouth enough to speak properly.  Then I told him about Pod Person Elrohir.  
  
I should've guessed that dad would get mad at me for thinking that Elrohir acting like a normal person for once meant there was something wrong.  He's still sadly clinging to the hope that one day Elrohir will become a productive and useful member of society, so he took Elrohir's change as a good sign, not something to worry about.  I really miss Glorfindel.  Glorfindel would be on my side for this.  I should write him an email.  
  
December 6th  
  
 I got an email back from Glorfindel.  I knew I shouldn't have tagged on that courtesy line asking about his dumb baby.  
  
\- - - - -  
From: "Lauron" <f_lauron@valinat.nat>  
Subject: Re: Pod brother  
  
Hey El, good to hear from you. Guess classes  
are almost over at GHU for the semester? Must  
be nice.  
  
Elairon is fantastic so far. Still sleeps most  
of the day, but is getting more active during  
the time he's awake, starting to move more.  
Usually that activity is in the middle of the  
night.  Ara read in some parenting magazine  
that babies sleep better when they share a bed  
with their parents, so guess where he sleeps  
now... I don't mind too much, and he isn't  
squashed yet from anyone rolling on top of  
him... It's amazing, really, just to lie there  
and watch him sleep. He's so little still.  
Might seem more real as he starts to get  
bigger.  
  
Ara and I went shopping the other day to get him  
his first real clothes, not that you can buy  
much other than those snap-up stretchy suits for  
newborns. Usually in pastel colours too, and we  
really wanted bright red or blue. Took an hour at  
least to finally find tiny corduroy overalls,  
though those were sized for three months. Ara had  
to make them smaller when we got home. Even then  
they didn't fit too well, kept sliding off his  
shoulders, so we put him back in the snap-up  
stretchy suit as soon as grandma and grandpa saw  
how nice he looked in his new clothes. I took a  
photo.  
  
Of course he's had lots of visitors so far, from  
grandparents to great-grandparents and my aunts  
and cousins. We're still looking forward to the  
day when he can stay awake long enough to see  
everyone. Apart from sleeping at night, he has  
naps every two hours or so.  
  
\- - - - -  
  
I stopped reading at that point and just scrolled past the next several paragraphs of Elairon's sleeping and feeding patterns, right on down to the bottom.  Glorfindel had sent photos.  One of a floppy-looking sleeping baby in a humorously large pair of red overalls, one of the floppy baby lying naked on a sheepskin and looking ornery, a closeup of the baby holding onto somebody's finger, the baby nursing (I really didn't need to see that), Glorfindel holding the baby, Aralindë holding the baby, Glorfindel and Aralindë holding the baby, Glorfindel and some random Vanyar (whom I'm guessing are somehow related to him) all staring at the baby in awe, the baby all bundled up in many fancy blankets, and then one of Glorfindel and Aralindë sitting nicely under a tree with their new son, posing in a way that looks suspiciously as if this is a photo they plan to send out to everybody they know, likely in a Fiommereth card.  It would be a nice photo if Elairon weren't sleeping floppily, his tongue sticking out at the camera.  
  
December 7th  
  
I have finals all this coming week.  The wise thing to do would be start studying, but for some reason I can't seem to stop myself from playing Freecell.  Hmm.  
  
I went to check on Pod Elrohir earlier, and he was still being poddish, organising his DVD collection alphabetically by genre and making a plan of his shelving unit.  Then Aerthos came by, bearing a thermos of coffee.  He filled my mug right up to the brim, almost spilling it, and I almost spilled again when I added sugar without sipping any off the top first.  Aerthos said, "Good thing it has a meniscus," and just then I had a very odd sense of déjà vu.  He left shortly thereafter.  The rest of the afternoon was clouded in an aura of weirdness.  Though I did finally beat the expert level on Minesweeper.  
  
Now I really ought to get around to studying.  Really. 


	16. The Elladan Show: 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

 December 12th  
  
I've never cared much for the smell of airports.  All of them smell the same- that sort of mix halfway between new carpet and old rubber with a bit of high school gymnasium thrown in.  I've also never cared much for airport food, insofar as it is invariably overpriced and undergood.  I think the airports must be trying to compete with cineplexes, ski resorts, and universities in the "ridiculous prices for cheap junk" department.  I just bought a pack of Skittles for $2.  
  
Pod Elrohir fell asleep about an hour ago, not long after the announcement came up that our flight was cancelled due to a freak blizzard in Rivendell that dumped two feet of snow on the runways.  I was sort of hoping that the prospect of being stranded in the Grey Havens airport would incite Elrohir to some sort of mischief, but alas he just went to sleep in one of the seats in the boarding lounge and told me not to wake him until the airport authority decides what to do with us.  Last I heard, the Rivendell airport had emergency teams out to clear the snow, but they estimated that our flight wouldn't be able to leave until tomorrow morning.  It's beginning to look like all the passengers will be herded over to the airport Ramada for the night.  I would welcome that solution.  The trousers I'm wearing are starting to get uncomfortable, and I'd really like to change.  
  
We've been sitting around waiting to do something for nearly two hours.  I used some of that time to make a spreadsheet of this year's Fiommereth gift recipients.  So far I have: 

RECIPIENT

Elrohir 

Dad 

Arwen

Aragorn

Erestor 

Grandma

Bilbo

Aerthos  


| 

GIFT

Subscription to Reptile World magazine

3-D puzzle of Minas Tirith 

Book of designer home décor tips 

Plaid pyjamas

Biographical DVD of Gil-galad

Paraffin foot spa

Grey Havens calendar

Satin houserobe  


| 

STATUS

Purchased 

To be purchased: seen in Zellers flyer  


Sent

Sent

Purchased

To be purchased

Purchased

Delivered  
  
  
---|---|---  
  
I also have to think of something to get grandpa yet.  I have no idea what he wants, but I figure it ought to be something nice, since he and grandma are coming to stay with us over the holidays for the first time ever, so this is a very special occasion.  I am also wondering if I should get something to send to Legolas, other than a Fiommereth e-card.  I saw a book of make-your-own ice cream recipes when I bought Erestor's DVD, so maybe that would do.  
  
December 13th  
  
Elrohir and I are still at the airport Ramada.  The situation in Rivendell has worsened.  Just as the first snowfall was almost cleared, another blizzard hit and dumped another load of snow.  So the flight has been delayed another day.  This wouldn't be so bad if the airport authority gave us more than a $5 voucher for each meal.   The only thing you can buy for $5 around here is an order of garlic toast.  Elrohir and I have been eating mostly garlic toast.  I was forced to use my own funds to buy a decent lunch today.  
  
We hung about the hotel all day doing pretty much nothing.  We couldn't go to the pool, since neither of us had swimmers, and the arcade games in the lobby were swarming with small children.  I tried to work up Elrohir's interest in finding some sort of mischief, but he didn't seem up for that.  He didn't even want to help himself to the unlocked supply closet full of shower caps and tiny shampoo bottles.  Something is seriously wrong.  Though he did seem to perk up a bit when we found a secret bathroom on the third floor.  He got a bit of a thrill out of peeing in a toilet marked "employees only".  
  
When we finally went back to the room, we found a note had been shoved under the door.  Our flight will be leaving at ten after nine tomorrow morning, provided the weather remains stable overnight.  I sincerely hope it does.  Being in a hotel with Elrohir is bad enough at the best of times, but being in a hotel with a boring Elrohir is nigh unbearable.  
  
December 14th  
  
I always forget how much I like being at home until I actually get here.  I ate four servings of white chocolate pudding for supper, then spent three hours playing Mario with Elrohir and the iguana, with whom Elrohir had a joyful reunion.  The cat was nowhere to be found and missed out on the action.  Dad even made us nachos.  This is truly the good life.  
  
I think Elrohir is better now.  On the plane this morning he confessed that he's been depressed because Nova dumped him for some surfer in her maths class.  After he admitted it he immediately started to look better, and within fifteen minutes of me assuring him that she's an idiot, he was abusing the complimentary wine and fiddling with my headphones as I tried to watch the Loony Toons Fiommereth special.  He kept turning my dial to a punk station.  When he started squirming in his seat, saying, "My ass is cramping up hardcore!" I knew he was pretty much cured.  Then I didn't feel so bad about punching him in the arm whenever he kicked me.  
  
December 15th  
  
I accidentally slept in until two pm today.  After that my entire schedule was off and I accomplished nothing.  Stupid time zone.  
  
Actually, I accomplished one thing.  I made a list of stuff I want and magnetted it up to the fridge.  It went like this:  
*wireless optical mouse  
*CD stand  
*down-feather pillow  
*socks and underwear  
*digital camera (no less than 4 megapixels!!!)  
*Kodak High Definition film  
*large bath towel  
*bedside lamp with bendy neck  
*travel alarm clock  
*8-in-one retractable screw driver  
*Brita filter  
  
I think toward the end you can sort of tell I was just going through the Wal-Mart flyer looking for anything half-decent to write down.  
  
Elrohir spent the afternoon giving the iguana a bath.  He was using dad's electric toothbrush to clean the iguana's claws.  I wonder if dad knows.  
  
December 16th  
  
Dad and I had an organisational meeting today.  It was supposed to be a catching-up chat where I told him all about my semester at university and showed him various GHU mementos, but we realised we didn't have time for that.  Grandma and grandpa will be arriving from Lothlórien in two days and the house isn't festively decorated at all, or even clean for that matter.  So as soon as I'd told dad I was confident that I'd done well enough in all my classes, we moved right on to cleaning and decorating schedules.  
  
My duties are:  
*hire a Rug Doctor and shampoo all the carpets in the living room, den, and main floor corridors.  
*vacuum other non-essential carpets  
*clean bathrooms  
*prepare dad's room for grandma and grandpa  
  
Dad's duties are:  
*purchase all needed holiday food and beverages  
*purchase tree  
*put up outdoor lights  
*wash and vacuum car so it lives up to grandpa's strict expectations  
  
Elrohir's duties are:  
*dust living room, dining room, front entry and den  
*Bee-mop all tile floors  
*rearrange living room furniture to accommodate tree  
*help dad with lights  
*clean iguana cage  
*kill maple bugs  
  
Erestor's duties are:  
*bake various holiday cookies, cakes, tarts, loaves, and pies  
*wash, starch, and iron festive table linens  
*polish brass and silver  
*wash good supper service  
  
And that's just for today.  Tomorrow we have to do all the decorating.  I'd better get started.  
  
December 18th  
  
The house is ready for grandma and grandpa.  As ready as it's going to get, in any case.  All the main carpets are shampooed, even if they are still damp and smell like wet dogs.  I had a bit of a trial with the Rug Doctor, since for the first ten minutes the carpets just seemed to be getting dirtier the more I shampooed them.  Then I actually read the instructions and learned that I'm only supposed to pull the infernal contraption backwards over the carpet.  Pushing it forward puts the entire operation in reverse and makes the dirty water come out.  I think it made a brownish stain by the fireplace.  I hope dad doesn't notice.  Seeing as there are no overhead lights in the living room and all the lamps have only 60 watt bulbs, I don't think he should.  
  
Dad's bedroom is organised and ready for grandma and grandpa to stay in.  I put all new linens on the bed and used the green flannel duvet cover (it was the most festive one I could find), and gave them the good pillows (the ones that aren't lumpy old foam).  I put all dad's random crap into boxes and shoved the boxes into the closet, and put out new candles and cinnamon-scented Fiommereth potpourri.  Then I cleaned the bathroom and set out fresh towels and soaps, and made sure there was shampoo in the shower and a full toilet roll on the dispenser.  Purex ultra-soft 3-ply toilet roll, I might add.  That's what dad has in his biff, while the rest of the house has to make do with scratchy 1-ply recycled Safeway econo-brand!  I will have words with dad about this inequity.  
  
Decorating was pure chaos without Arwen and her natural feminine skills coordinating the effort.  Dad set the tree up on Tuesday night after I shampooed the carpet, but he was nowhere to be seen yesterday when it was time to put the lights on.  In fact, nobody was around.  I had to do it all myself!  I got the stepladder out of the garage, but it had been standing in a puddle of something that had melted off the bottom of the Mazda, so I had to put socks on its legs to keep it from mucking up the clean carpet.  Then I went at the lights.  
  
Really, I'm not sure how Arwen does it.  The light strings kept getting tangled in my hair.  My fingers kept getting covered in sap.  Then the lights would get sticky from my fingers, and my hair would get sticky from the lights, and at one point I ended up standing on the sock-clad stepladder, leaning precariously close to the tree as I tried to disentangle the back of my head.  It took me no less than four hours to put eight strings of sodding miniature lights on the stupid tree.  Dad and Elrohir came in just as I was doing the very bottom branches.  I plugged it all in, and instead of saying, "Oh, Elladan, what a wonderful job, it looks gorgeous!" dad said, "Did you miss a spot?"  I stood back and, sure enough, there was a large gaping dark hole toward the top left side.  One of the strings of lights wasn't working.  
  
Really, I didn't care.  I said we could just hang more decorations to fill in the hole, but dad wouldn't hear of it.  He said, "Elladan, you know full well that the significance of this tree is to honour the beauty and light of the Two Trees of Valinor, and I will not have a Fiommereth tree that looks as if it were partially attacked and killed by Morgoth!"  I had to drive to the drug store and get a new box of lights, then come back home, extract the evil unlights, and bung the new ones up on the tree.  Dad plugged it all together and, lo and behold! the tree glowed a brilliant white with no more gaping dark Morgoth death spots.  I'm sure Yavanna would be proud, if Valar can be bothered to care about trivial crap like dad's Fiommereth tree.  
  
Dad had decided on the Telperion theme, so he brought out the boxes of silver decorations and we had at it.  Somehow the tree decorating seemed very frantic and stressful this year.  Dad dropped a glass chickadee on the parquet and I accidentally broke a glittery plastic snowflake.  Ironically, Elrohir was the only one who didn't break anything, though his iguana knocked off a snowman, two stars, and a dove when it jumped from Elrohir's head and tried to climb the tree.  The experience became a bit more festive when Erestor brought out some cider and star-shaped cookies, but still there was an overwhelming feeling of panic.  To save time, dad even let Elrohir set up the porcelain Valar, which has never before happened in the history of this household, because everybody knows he will arrange them in a sacrilegious manner.  I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I helped dad toss icicle tinsel at the tree.  Oddly enough, he made a very reasonably setup.  
  
I went over to turn Aulë so he faced a bit more toward Manwë, but Elrohir slapped my hand away and told me not to touch his Valar.  Then he spent the next twenty minutes making tiny adjustments to achieve ultimate perfection.  There was no goofiness to be seen.  In fact, Elrohir looked downright protective of his perfect setup.  I think we may have just solved the problem of him monkeying with the Valar.  So long as he's the one to do the original arrangement, he seems to be very jealous and therefore less inclined to put them in naughty poses or have them all adoring a walnut.  Glorfindel should be glad to know that.  
  
We finally finished all the decoration around midnight.  Never has decorating seemed so chore-like.  I blame Arwen for not being here.  Elrohir hung up the stockings, I put the pinecone wreath on the door and arranged the candles in the front hall, Erestor went around with the box of random things (fake holly, snowman train, tree-shaped pillows, mechanical plastic Aulë doll that drops his trousers, etc.) and put them all in their rightful places, and dad hung a sprig of mistletoe above the archway that leads into the living room.  He and Erestor kissed under it for what I deemed to be longer than necessary.  I don't know what was more disturbing: watching my father passionately kiss my former boyfriend, or the feeling of regret and longing that went along with the watching.  I think I might have to ring Aerthos later.  
  
I hope grandma and grandpa appreciate all the work that's gone into the preparation for their arrival.  
  
December 19th  
  
Dad left at half nine last night to pick up grandma and grandpa from the airport.  He returned two hours later with grandma, grandpa, Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, and Ardlor.  I'm not sure how they all fit into the Mazda, but I really wish I could've seen.  Erestor's eyes went wide as they all trooped in from the garage.  He gave dad a questioning look, and I distinctly saw dad mouth, 'Don't ask.'  I followed dad into the kitchen and as soon as we were out of earshot, I did ask.  
  
As far as I can gather, this is the story.  Ardlor has a role in a forthcoming B-grade cop movie that begins shooting here January 1st.  He and Rúmil decided that, since they would be moving at the end of the month anyway, they would come early and have a holiday vacation.  When they learned that grandma and grandpa were coming at the same time, they organised to be on the same flight. Haldir, meanwhile, had been contracted by grandpa to housesit and water the fig trees for the duration of his and grandma's time away.  However, grandma and grandpa's vacation plans started Haldir thinking along the lines of going away himself, and when he learned of Rúmil and Ardlor's vacation, that clinched it.  Finally, Orophin, who didn't want to stay in Lothlorien by himself over the holidays, decided to come along too.  At one point they all had hotel reservations, but grandma convinced them on the plane that "Elrond has lots of room."  Thus they are staying here.  Until New Years'.  
  
Erestor came into the kitchen after a few minutes and started saying stuff like "Fiommereth is a time for gatherings of family and friends, after all," but dad apparently didn't buy that hooey.  He thinned his lips and started robotically preparing coffee for everyone.  I saw him surreptitiously sneak two ounces of rum into his own mug.  I did the same to mine as soon as he wasn't looking.  
  
We have just enough room to fit everyone without resorting to unnecessary doubling-up or mattresses on the floor.  Grandma and grandpa are in dad's room, dad is in Arwen's room, Haldir is in Aragorn's room, Orophin is in the main guest room, Rúmil is in the room we usually give to Legolas, and Ardlor is in Glorfindel's room.  Erestor, Elrohir and I are all in our own rooms.  It all works out pretty well, and should be fine so long as no more guests show up.  
  
Now the main challenge is finding stuff for everybody to do.  Dad took grandma and grandpa on a tour around town today, and I went shopping with Rúmil and Ardlor while Elrohir stayed home with the iguana on his head and played Nintendo with Orophin and Haldir searched for the missing cat.  We're all going to go to Lindir's annual karaoke and ping-pong party on Monday night, but other than that there are no plans.  I sense that lots of video-watching and tranquil walks through the snow are imminent.  
  
December 20th  
  
It occurred to me today that I my life is a situation comedy.  The sort that sticks a whole bunch of unlikely characters together for some reason and counts on the pure ludicrosity of the setup for laughs.  In The Elladan Show (airing daily on the A Channel!), world leaders are brought together by fate and placed in the same household for the holiday season.  Zaniness ensues.  
  
It all started this morning, and the pilot episode went something like this:  
  
  
     EXT. ELLADAN'S HOUSE, MORNING  
  
      ELLADAN stands on the stoop, wearing a puffy ski parka reminiscent of the  
      Michelin Man.  As he struggles valiantly to shovel a stubborn patch of ice  
      off the steps, a large red van pulls into the drive.  Out steps THRANDUIL,  
      King of Mirkwood.  [Studio audience whistles and yells "WOOOO!"]  
  
                                   THRANDUIL  
                            Well, this is the place!  
  
  
      Elladan looks dumbfounded.  [Studio audience laughs.]  Thranduil swaggers  
      up to the front stoop.  
  
  
                                    THRANDUIL  
                            Morning, Elladan!  
  
  
      Thranduil continues swaggering all the way up the stairs and barges right  
      on into the house.  [Studio audience laughs.]  
  
  
                                    ELLADAN  
                            Erm, what are you doing here?  
  
                                    THRANDUIL  
                            We've come to visit!  
  
                                    ELLADAN  
                            "WE"?!!!  [Studio audience laughs.]  
  
  
      Wide shot of Thranduil's van.  Out steps his wife, mother, and five  
      daughters.  [Studio audience howls with laughter.]  Finally, LEGOLAS  
      steps out of the van and poses long enough to receive a standing ovation  
      from the studio audience.  [Audience yells "WOOOO!" and young girls  
      worldwide scream in a frenzy of adolescent lust.]  
  
  
At this point I panicked, dropped the shovel, and ran for dad.  He was on his hands and knees in the living room with a box of Kleenex, trying desperately to kill all the maple bugs before grandpa saw them.  Words couldn't adequately describe the situation, so I silently pulled him by the arm until we got to the front door.  I wish I would've had a camera, though, since the look on his face when he saw Thranduil's family was priceless.  
  
Thranduil said, "We though it might be nice to spend the holidays here in Rivendell with you.  Hope you don't mind."  Dad said, "Actually, Thranduil, now really isn't a very convenient..."  But Thranduil cut him off by going into some explanation of how workmen are removing the asbestos from his Halls and he can't very well stay there now, can he?  Also, he heard that Celeborn and Galadriel were in town, and was there some sort of Elven leadership conference going on for which he should be present?  Dad's defences eventually broke down and he agreed to let Thranduil stay.  He put me in charge of organising a new bedroom allotment plan, and went off muttering something about aspirin and having to buy a bigger turkey to feed all these new guests.  He spent the next two hours in maple-bug-killing relaxation therapy.  It seemed to work pretty well, and as a bonus he would up with a whole ice-cream pail full of wadded Kleenex and squished maple bugs.  
  
The new bedroom plan is as follows: grandma and grandpa in dad's room, Thranduil and his wife in Arwen's room, Haldir and Orophin in Aragorn's room, two of Thranduil's daughters in my room, Legolas in Elrohir's room, Thranduil's mother and the youngest daughter in the guest room, the other two daughters in the room we usually give Legolas, Rúmil and Ardlor in Glorfindel's room, and Elrohir and I on the hide-a-bed in the den (as usual).  Dad and Erestor will share Erestor's room, but for the sake of decency they are going to tell grandpa that dad is sleeping in some imaginary spare room in the basement.  
  
I honestly don't know what we're going to do with all these people.  No matter where I go in the house, there's always somebody underfoot or getting into trouble, and arguments constantly arise.  Thranduil's mother has already commandeered the kitchen and kicked Erestor out because she's convinced he doesn't know how to make gingerbread properly.  
  
December 21st  
  
Dad is depressed.  Elrohir thinks it is because of the crappy weather (who knew that without the power of Vilya Rivendell would average a blizzard per week?), but I am confident it is because of Thranduil's unreasonable demands.  Dad had to run down to the Shop Rite at seven this morning to fetch two litres of club soda because Thranduil doesn't like regular water.  For somebody who lives in a traditionalist Silvan commune, he sure is accustomed to modern luxuries.  
  
In order to cheer up dad, Elrohir spent the day attempting to forge new Rings of Power to control the snowstorms and compensate for Vilya's inefficiency.  Unfortunately his forging skills are a bit on the shoddy side.  After several hours at the kitchen table he presented dad with the Ring of Lettuce, the Ring of Saran Wrap, the Ring of Lego, and the Ring of Mayonnaise.  The Ring of Mayonnaise, he explained, can only be worn for a few minutes at a time every few hours.  The rest of the time it has to be kept in the freezer.  Dad was speechless.  
  
Grandpa did not hold well with this Ring-forging business.  He went and sat in Erestor's car with a Crypto-Quip book and stayed there all afternoon until Antiques Road Show came on.  I think he still has hard feelings toward Celebrimbor, probably over golf.  I know he still holds a grudge against Círdan and the entire Grey Havens area because of an incident in which he was unable to find Eastern Hockey League scores in any paper or on any radio station while on a business trip to Lindon back at the beginning of the Second Age.  Grandma didn't care about the Rings, but that might only be because she's nearly as depressed as dad.  When she imagined Fiommereth in Rivendell I think she anticipated perusing exciting new high street shops for fancy lingerie and designer shoes, not playing Trivial Pursuit with Thranduil's wife and mother.  Thranduil himself went out cross country skiing at noon, and nobody's seen him since.  I hope he didn't get lost in the blizzard.  Not so much because I really care about his well-being, but because I'm sure his mysterious disappearance would make dad (and me by association) look bad on the news.  
  
December 22nd  
  
A card from Glorfindel came in today's post.  Inside was a collection of photos of him, Aralindë, and the baby.  I put it on the buffet with the other cards, which came from Arwen and Aragorn, Bilbo, Frodo, Lindir, Faramir, Eómer, Círdan, EnMax, Telus, Global, Access, the dentist, and about ten people I don't know but who dad claims are close friends.  
  
I also got my first Fiommereth present today: a free dairy recipe calendar from the milkman.  I claim it as my own because I had to haul in the stupid milk from the step when I got the mail, and I was the one who found it wedged between two things of half and half and a carton of eggnog.  I looked over the recipes while I was eating breakfast, and they appear to be nothing more than regular recipes altered somewhat to include more dairy products than anyone needs.  I mean really, who puts whipping cream in meatloaf anyway?!  The milk company is up to something, trying to get us to buy more and more, and I don't think I like it.  I was secretly pleased when Elrohir, outraged that I got the free calendar instead of him, staged an anti-milk demonstration by putting orange juice on his Shreddies instead of 1%.  
  
I spent the rest of the morning watching music videos on cable with Rúmil and Ardlor.  They looked terminally bored.  I don't think a quiet family Fiommereth in Rivendell quite compares to their usual glamorous downtown Lórien lifestyle.  I'm positive I heard Rúmil mutter "quaint" in a distinctly derogatory fashion.  More than once.  Thranduil came and joined us around noon, but Rúmil and Ardlor left straight away.  They have been fundamentally opposed to Thranduil on a political level ever since they found out that homosexuality is still illegal in Mirkwood.  They found out two days ago.  It's been a bit tense.  Actually, being around Thranduil is always tense.  He radiates impatience and is far too alert for his own good.  He's always doing things, and seems physically unable to sit and relax and mindlessly watch television like a normal person.  It wasn't five minutes before he asked me to go cross country skiing with him.  I was about to say no thanks, but just then I heard dad hollering for "volunteers" to shovel the driveway.  I told Thranduil I'd have to borrow some of his ski gear.  
  
We eventually assembled an outfit consisting of Elrohir's snowboard kit, a knit ski hat that dad got free from the insurance place, authentic hand-made Avarin beaded fur mittens that were purchased impulsively at a craft sale several years ago, a scarf that appeared never to have been used, and skis, boots, and poles that belonged to either Legolas or his mother (Thranduil was unsure which).  I also put on some sunglasses for good measure, to ensure that nobody would recognise me in this getup.  Then we took off across the back yard.  I probably should have told Thranduil that I haven't been cross country skiing since the time the elementary school made my class go as a phys ed field trip.  I think he was able to guess, though.  I fell over three times before we'd even left the garden.  
  
The next two hours were torturous, with Thranduil gliding gracefully through the trees and me slogging along behind, perpetually out of breath.  I'm not sure what idiot thought that strapping two long pieces of wood to one's feet and shuffling over a flat field could ever be considered a good time.  I got snow up my parka, down my trousers, in my hair, in my mittens, and in my boots.  I got my skis stuck under fallen logs and in between rocks.  It was -20 but I was so hot from all the exercise that I had to unzip my parka.  Possibly worst of all, Thranduil had led me so far down the riverbank into the middle of Prince's Park that I had no idea where the house was, or even in which direction I should go to get home.  When Thranduil sat down on a rock to take a swig from his wine skin, I asked him how much further.  He asked, "Are you tired?"  I managed to weakly nod yes.  He said, "Well, we're only about five kilometres from the house.  We can head straight back."  Five kilometres!  I almost collapsed from exhaustion at the thought of it.  But somehow I managed to shuffle my way home, step by painful step.  I saw a rabbit and three deer, but it didn't cheer me up much.  
  
What did cheer me up, though, was shuffling into the yard to the welcome sight of Elrohir, Legolas and Orophin still shovelling out the driveway.  I may have aching muscles and blistered feet, and a scratch across my forehead from sliding face-first into a Douglas Fir, but at least I didn't have to spend the afternoon doing anything useful.  
  
I hope I can walk well enough to go to Lindir's party tonight.  I spent forty minutes sitting in the hot bath, but it still hurts to use any of the muscles in my arms and legs.  
  
December 23rd  
  
The party didn't go very well.  Dad got drunk to try to drown his sorrows, and Thranduil got drunk because I guess he just really likes drinking.  Then the two of them kept at each other, arguing over absolutely everything.  They started off with arguments about reasonably important things like political and religious views, but quickly degraded into arguments over whether orange juice with pulp is superior to orange juice without pulp, and if it's better to just unplug the coffee maker instead of using the ON/OFF switch.  Lindir politely suggested I take them home after only an hour, as they were embarrassing themselves and ruining the festive mood.  I wholeheartedly agreed with him.  I took them home, made coffee for Thranduil, and left him sitting at the kitchen table reading the television guide, then put dad straight to bed (being careful to avoid being seen by grandpa on the way to Erestor's room).  As I tucked him in, he informed me of another wonderful piece of news.  Círdan is coming.  
  
He had telephoned Círdan yesterday before the party to complain about Thranduil, but instead of sympathy he got thinly-veiled hints as Círdan went on about how he never gets to go anywhere any more, and hasn't seen Rivendell in such a long time, and always spends Fiommereth by himself, and would dearly love to be invited to a big friends and family gathering sometime...  Dad figures he must've been on the internet at the time of the telephone conversation, since within ten minutes of being invited in the spirit of "how bad can one more be?" Círdan announced that he could get a flight for 2 pm on the 23rd.  He will be here in a few hours.  I have had to make up a new bedroom plan.  Círdan will go in Elrohir's room, and Legolas will share the den with Elrohir and me.  Urgh.  It's not that I really dislike Legolas, it's just that he has tendencies to do things that get on my nerves.  Like singing along with commercial jingles on television.  I don't know what compels him to sing, "Ho ho ho, Green Giant!" every time the frozen sprouts with cheese ad comes on.  
  
This is sort of turning into an Elven leaders convention after all.  Thranduil will be pleased, at least.  And maybe he can con Círdan into going cross country skiing with him.  I had to stoop to volunteering to do laundry this morning just to get out of another ski adventure.  Thranduil took Grandma instead, who was too hung over from Lindir's party to be able to properly refuse.  Rumour has it she drank a 26 of rye and then passed out on Lindir's pink velour divan, but Elrohir told me this rumour so there's a good chance he was exaggerating.  From the look of Grandma's hair and makeup when she got in last night, I'd say she only drank a bottle of wine and then maybe sat on the divan with her eyes closed for a few minutes while everyone else was putting their shoes on to leave.  
  
FIVE HOURS AND SEVEN MINUES LATER (according to my watch anyway):   
  
Círdan arrived right on schedule.  He took a taxi from the airport and walked through the front door just as dad was running around killing last-minute errant maple bugs.  I really wish we could figure out where those dumb things are coming from.  Círdan was carrying two enormous suitcases, which seemed to me to be a bit much since he's only going to be here for five days.  But then he immediately unpacked one of the suitcases, and it was entirely full of presents, which he handed to Elrohir with instructions to place them under the tree.  Elrohir spent all afternoon organising the presents, first by size, then by colour, then by addressee.  By the time he had finished the tree looked like it had exploded.  I don't think I've ever seen that many presents in my life.  Not even on television.  
  
Of course the sight of all the presents made me remember that, in the frenzy of having all these guests, I've completely forgotten to finish off my Fiommereth shopping!  I still need to get a present for Grandpa, and I suppose courtesy dictates that I really should get something for everyone else too.  I'll have to go early tomorrow and head to Dominion Centre downtown, which will naturally be packed with other idiots just like me who neglected to do all their holiday purchasing at a reasonable time.  
  
December 24th (Fiommerethin)  
  
Got very little sleep last night, and as a result, I have a terrible headache.  Elrohir and Legolas were up for hours playing a new card game that Elrohir invented.  The game involves getting punched in the stomach whenever you lose a turn.  I stopped playing after two rounds.  
  
I made myself get up at eight on the hope that if I got downtown early enough, the shops wouldn't be busy yet.  Apparently every other last-minute shopper in the city had the same idea.  The underground car park on 4th Ave was full, the ImPark lot on Centre was full, all five levels of the multi-park on 2nd were full, and the only free street spot I saw was a 15-minute loading zone.  Eventually I had to give up and park in the bridge lot across the river, a ten minute walk from home.  It would have been faster to just walk downtown in the first place.  
  
First I went to Dollar Street and filled a basket with cheap colourful candles for Thranduil's wife and mother, and picked up some 2-for-1 wrapping paper tubes.  The CD that was playing in HMV as I walked past was pretty good, so I got that for Rúmil.  Ardlor got a small black and white framed photograph of some trees that looked like it would fit in with his and Rúmil's living room décor.  I got a bead jewellery kit and friendship bracelet kit for Thranduil's younger daughters at Learning Is Fun, and fancy hair thingies and nail polish for the older three at one of those girl accessory shops.  Haldir and Orophin both got slippers, since I couldn't find anything better for them.  I decided on dog pyjama bottoms for Legolas, since for some reason yesterday he was going on about how much he likes dogs.  Finally, I bought Círdan one of those Tourism Rivendell calendars that has pictures of all the stuff nobody who actually lives here ever goes to see.  
  
Despite the crowds, I was done by noon.  I hauled all my bags back through down town, over the bridge, and to the car.  It took me five minutes to try to turn from the car park onto Memorial Drive for all the traffic, and then once I did turn, I was cut off by some jerk in an SUV.  I wanted to give him the finger, but I couldn't because I was wearing mittens.  I pulled into the garage just as Elrohir and Erestor came up the driveway.  Their car was just as full as mine, but they looked much less frazzled.  Out of morbid curiosity, I asked where they had parked.  Erestor said the Zoo Park 'n' Ride, whence they had taken the LRT directly to Dominion Centre.  I could've kicked myself for not thinking of that.  
  
I hauled all the bags inside and, after dodging three of Thranduil's children running trans-house races in oversized cross country ski boots, went into the living room.  Grandpa was sitting at the fireplace burning everything remotely confidential, from old Master Card statements and telephone bills to receipts from the petrol station that showed the last four numbers of his debit card.  He had hauled an entire bag of such things because he and grandma don't have a fireplace at home.  At that moment, watching him sit there tossing handfuls of small papers into the flame, it suddenly hit me that I had completely forgotten to get him a present, even though he was my reason for going downtown in the first place!  I felt a bit sick and had to sit down on the sofa, a cold sweat beginning to form on my forehead.  Grandpa looked up with a frown and said, "Is something wrong?"  I managed to choke out "no" before shakily standing up again and heading back to the garage.  I had to take all the presents, too, since I knew that if I left them at home somebody would peek.  I drove straight to the Park 'n' Ride and took the train downtown.  
  
The only up side to the entire experience is that I then knew exactly what to get grandpa.  I went to Supreme Basics and bought him a paper shredder.  
  
At quarter after two I was back at home in time to get everything wrapped.  Everyone but me seemed to be relaxing in the living room around a roaring fire, drinking hot cider and eating various Fiommereth treats baked by Erestor and Thranduil's mum.  They didn't even have the courtesy to save any of the jam tarts or shortbread stars until I was done wrapping!  By the time I joined them the only things left were gingersnaps, pecan squares, and those awful coconut balls that Erestor always makes even though nobody likes them.  I took a few gingersnaps and let them soak in my cider until they were soggy.  I like them best that way.  Then Elrohir helped me find places for the new presents under the tree.  By "under" I really mean "in the general vicinity of".  Nothing has been able to fit under that tree in days.  
  
As soon as it was dark out, just around supper time, Thranduil stood up and said, "Well, looks like it's about time!"  His children cheered, but everybody else just sort of looked at him until dad had the sense to ask, "Time for what?"  Thranduil gave him a very sympathetic look, as if he were very unfortunate indeed for not knowing, and began to explain the old North Sindarin tradition of going door to door on Fiommerethin, singing for food and brandy.  Grandma looked at grandpa, but he just sort of shrugged in confusion.  Then dad asked, "Exactly who is supposed to go door to door?"  Thranduil said it was mostly children, old people, the poor, and out-of-town travellers, and everybody else was supposed to stay home to hand out food and drinks to the singers.  Dad looked a bit relieved and said, "Well, looks like none of us is eligible to go, then," but Thranduil said, "Nonsense!  Elladan and Elrohir still live with you; they can be called children.  Celeborn and Galadriel and Círdan are all quite old, aren't they?"  At that grandma made a face and whispered, "I would have preferred to be classified as an out-of-town traveller, really."  I whispered back, "Me too."  
  
The only ones Thranduil deemed ineligible to go out singing with him were dad and Erestor.  They had to stay at home with cookies on hand in case any singers came by.  The rest of us were more or less forced to get bundled up (to face the blizzard that was just starting) and trudge down the road to the nearest house.  Thranduil rang the bell, and as soon as the door opened we all started singing "Deck the Halls".  Some less enthusiastically than others.  As expected, the poor home owners had no idea what in the world was going on.  In fact, we were yelled at for disturbing their family gathering.  The next house was a bit better; the owners at least thanked us for our creative rendition of "The Holly and the Ivy" before firmly bolting the door.  Nobody was home at the third house, and the fourth house was full of students who had no extra food to give away.  Two of them ended up joining us for lack of anything better to do, though.  The fifth house was a repeat of the first, but still Thranduil refused to get discouraged.  We started on the next block and got two polite thank-yous, two not-homes, one refusal to answer the door even though we could very clearly see a variety of inhabitants through the living room window, one religious fanatic who asked us if we had truly accepted the everlasting love of Elbereth, and three dumbfounded stares.  The two students went home, but Thranduil still refused to get discouraged.  
  
It wasn't until the end of the third block that we finally came to the home of somebody who appreciated Thranduil's insane tradition.  She taught North Sindarin history at the University of Rivendell, and became rather excited when she realised what we were (very pathetically) trying to do.  She invited us in to chat while her husband, who taught psychology, fixed a tray of cocoa and fruit cake.  She was most impressed at meeting Thranduil, and asked him at least a hundred questions about holiday traditions in Mirkwood.  Then she questioned grandpa and Círdan for a bit, but their answers pertaining to Doriath and the Falas were of little interest to her, so she turned back to Thranduil.  Grandma tried to hide her annoyance at not being the centre of attention, but she didn't do a very good job.  
  
Just after eight, a bunch of people started showing up at the professor's house.  She explained that she was having a party for all her career-oriented colleagues who, like her and her husband, disliked children and had no interest in seeing family over the holidays.  This made me think of poor lonely dad and Erestor, who were left at home all by themselves on Fiommerethin with no family or friends or party to spread the holiday cheer.  I must be getting overly sentimental, because my eyes started to tear up and a lump formed in my throat at the thought of this.  I quickly excused myself from the party and ran all the way home, bursting into the living room to the heart-wrenching sight of dad and Erestor snuggling happily in the mingling glow of the fireplace and the lit-up tree, taking turns sipping from a bottle of champagne and looking very content to spend a quiet evening by themselves.  They had changed into their pyjamas.  Erestor had taken all the plaits out of dads hair and was sort of playing with it.  Dad looked up at me and said, "Oh, you're back already?"  He sounded more disappointed than lonely.  
  
I mumbled something about everyone else still being at a party so he didn't have to worry, then grabbed the nearest magazine and sat down far away from them.  The magazine was grandma's Flare.  I didn't give a toss.  An article about what high heels and handbags are most fashionable will always be preferable to watching dad and Erestor be intimate.  
  
This has officially been the worst Fiommereth Ever, no contest.  It is entirely Arwen's fault, too, for marrying Aragorn and renewing the friendship of Elves and Men and screwing up our routine.  I was much happier when Elves didn't have to care about world politics or concern themselves with any of this forthcoming Fourth Age fading and/or Time of Men nonsense!  I liked being stuck in the rut of apathetic predictability, when nobody talked about moving to Valinor, Mirkwood and Rivendell happily ignored each other, and everyone in Lothlórien had that secretive we'll-never-tell-you-what-goes-on-in-our-forest-so-just-leave-us-alone vibe going on.  Tomorrow had better be fantastically wonderful to make up for all the crap I've had to deal with so far! 


	17. Index of Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

There are an awful lot of characters in this story, both canon and original.  And because it's not wholly necessary to read everything in the correct order, here is an index of where everyone can be found, for anyone interested in reading about select characters (or for anyone who wants to know who appears where).  **_Bold and italic text_** indicates that the charater is not directly involved in the chapter, but appears as a telephone/email correspondent or is discussed by others.

**Canon Characters:**  

Aragorn: How I Spent My Summer Vacation (all), Home for the Holidays 1, 2, **_3, 4_ ,** From Rohan With Love, The Elladan Show 1, **_2, 6_**

Arwen: How I Spent My Summer Vacation (all), Home for the Holidays 1 - 4, The Elladan Show 1, _**3, 4, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 4**_

Bilbo: Home for the Holidays 2, 3

Boromir: Home for the Holidays 1, 2, _**3, The Elladan Show 1**_

Celeborn: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 3, 4, **_Home for the_ _Holidays 5_** , The Elladan Show 1, 2, 5, 6, **_Rivendell Nine to Five 2_** , 3, 4

Círdan:  _ **How I Spent My Summer Vacation 4**_ , The Elladan Show 5, 6

Elladan: all chapters

Elrohir:  _ **How I Spent My Summer Vacation 1, 2**_ , 3, 4, Home for the Holidays (all), From Rohan With Love, The Elladan Show (all), Rivendell Nine to Five (all)

Elrond: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 1, 2, _**3**_ , Home for the Holidays (all), The Elladan Show 1, 2, _**3, 4**_ **,** 5, 6, **_7, 8_** , 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 1, _**2, 4**_

Eönwë: Rivendell Nine to Five 2

Erestor: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 1 - 2, Home for theHolidays (all), The Elladan Show 1, 2, _**3, 4**_ , 5, 6, **_7, 8_** , 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 1, **_4_**

Faramir: The Elladan Show 1

Finarfin: **_The Elladan show 6_**

Frodo: Home for the Holidays 1 - 2, The Elladan Show 1

Galadriel: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 3 - 4, **_Home for the_ _Holidays 3, 5, 6_** , The Elladan Show 1, 2, 5, 6, **_Rivendell Nine to Five 4_**

Galdor: Home for the Holidays 1

Gandalf: Home for the Holidays 1 - 2, The Elladan Show 1

Gildor: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 4, The Elladan Show 8

Gimli: Home for the Holidays 2, From Rohan With Love, The Elladan Show 1

Glorfindel: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 1, 2, _**3** ,_ 4, Home for the Holidays (all), The Elladan Show 1 - 2, _**4, 6, 7, 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 2, 3, 4**_

Halbarad: From Rohan With Love

Haldir: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 3, The Elladan Show 5, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 4

Legolas: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 1, 2, **_3,_ _4_ ,** Home for the Holidays 1, 2, _**3 - 5**_ , From Rohan With Love, The Elladan Show 1, 2, 5, 6, **_Rivendell Nine to Five 2_** , 3, 4

Lindir: Home for the Holidays 2 - 3, The Elladan Show 5, Rivendell Nine to Five 1, 2, 4

Merry: Home for the Holidays 1 - 2, The Elladan Show 1

Orophin: The Elladan Show 5, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 4

Pippin: Home for the Holidays 1 - 2, The Elladan Show 1

Rúmil: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 3 - 4, The Elladan Show 5, 6, 8, 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 4

Sam: Home for the Holidays 1 - 2

Thranduil: **_Home for the_ _Holidays 2_** , The Elladan Show 2, 5, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 3, 4

****

Original Characters:

****

Aerthos, uni boyfriend of Elladan: The Elladan Show 3 - 4, **_6_** , 7, 8, 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 4

Angiliath, residence-assigned date: The Elladan Show 8 - 9

Aralindë, cheap underage girlfriend of Glorfindel:How I Spent My Summer Vacation 2, _**3,**_ 4, Home for the Holidays 2 - 6, The Elladan Show 1, **_4, 6, 7, Rivendell Nine to Five 2, 4_**

Aralindë's family: The Elladan Show 7

Ardlor, B-grade actor boyfriend of Rúmil: How I Spent My Summer Vacation 3 - 4, Home for the Holidays 5 - 6, The Elladan Show 5, 6, **_8_**

Avarin Neighbours: Home for the Holidays 4

Baby, son of Glorion and Lerael: Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Candir, father of Aralindë: How I spent My Summer Vacation 2, Home for the Holidays 6, The Elladan Show 7

Elairon, son of Glorfindel: **_The Elladan_ _Show 4, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 2_**

Fainelleth, indiscreet wife of Lindir: Home for the Holidays 2 - 3

Gil-galad, iguana of Elrohir: Home for the Holidays 2 - 6, From Rohan With Love, The Elladan Show 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 2, 4

Glirelleth, wife of Thranduil: The Elladan Show 5, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Glorion, older brother of Legolas: Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Legolas' sisters: The Elladan Show 5, 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Lerael, wife of Glorion: Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Maethor, B-grade film director: Home for the Holidays 5

Merenel, girlfriend of Angiliath: **_The Elladan Show 8_** , 9

Nova, Quenya class girlfriend: The Elladan Show 3, 4, 7, 9, Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Orozer, secretary to the Valar: ** _Rivendell Nine to Five 2_**

Talathuir, Quenya class dunce: The Elladan Show 3 - 4, Rivendell Nine to Five 3

Taleryn, government intern: Rivendell Nine to Five 1, 2

Thranduil's mum: The Elladan Show 5 - 6, Rivendell Nine to Five 3


	18. The Elladan Show: 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

December 25th (Arfiommereth)  
  
Today was not fantastically wonderful.  I should have known.  
  
I woke up to some very odd sounds.  At first I thought Elrohir had put his Tamagotchi under my pillow again, but then I opened my eyes and saw that the noises were coming from my computer.  I must've fallen asleep while playing pinball.  I looked at my watch and saw that it was a few minutes after four in the morning.  Then I looked at the hide-a-bed, and saw that Elrohir and Legolas had made a blanket fort.  They were sitting inside, giggling.  
  
I tried to get into bed to go back to sleep properly, but their fort took up the entire mattress.  I asked what they were doing in there.  Elrohir said, "Undressing the iguana."  Legolas giggled.  I growled and punched their fort, but I guess they had made it out of tables and blankets, because my fist hit something hard with a pointy corner and it really hurt.  I yelled, "Where am I supposed to sleep if you idiots are taking up the bed?!"  Elrohir said, "We made you another bed on the brown lounge."  I looked over at the brown lounge.  It had sheets, blankets, and a pillow.  On the pillow, tucked under the blankets, was a pair of Elrohir's dirty socks.  Elrohir poked his head out of the fort just long enough to yell, "Don't wake the stinky socks!" and laugh wildly.  I balled up the socks, tossed them at the fort, and got into my makeshift bed.  
  
The last thing I remember thinking was, "I'm never going to get to sleep now," but what seemed like only seconds later, I woke up to something poking into my eye.  That turned out to be the nose of the iguana, which Elrohir was holding in front of my face.  The iguana sneezed on me.  Elrohir scolded the iguana, saying, "Elladan is nothing to be sneezed at."  I punched him in the groin.  He managed to hand off the iguana to Legolas before collapsing to the floor and making groaning-type noises.  I didn't feel sorry at all.  That's what sort of mood I was in.  
  
He and Legolas were wary after that, and left me pretty much alone as we all went into the kitchen to wait for present-opening time.  Thranduil was already up and reading yesterday's paper over a mug of coffee, looking robotically alert as ever.   I'm still convinced he never sleeps.  His mother was still in bed, his wife was slicing up fruit, and his daughters were all fighting over who got the biggest orange.  I grabbed a snowman mug full of coffee and sat beside Thranduil.  Elrohir and Legolas grabbed holly glasses full of Five Alive and sat beside me.  In a few minutes Círdan showed up, then grandpa, then Haldir and Orophin.  Thranduil's mother made her appearance after about twenty minutes, followed by dad and Erestor.  Grandma shuffled in just after eight-thirty, wearing an ivory satin bedroom ensemble and holding a gel mask over her eyes.  Her slippers had high heels and feathers on the toes.  Thranduil's wife, wearing practical green flannelette and regular slippers, thinned her lips disapprovingly.  
  
Grandma grabbed her coffee and stood beside grandpa.  The two looked even more like polar opposites than usual.  Grandpa was wearing a plaid bathrobe and one-piece long underwear.  He shops almost exclusively from the L.L. Bean catalogue.  Dad and Erestor, on the other hand, were dressed almost identically and kept standing too close together.  It was a bit nauseating.  
  
At nine we held a group referendum and decided not to wait for Rúmil and Ardlor, who, according to Haldir, never get out of bed before ten.  As soon as the decision was made, Elrohir made a beeline for the living room and took his place beside the tree.  He very efficiently handed out the presents, subcontracting a portion of them out to Legolas, who could more easily figure out which of his sisters was which.  The whole operation took a very long time.  I got:  
  
*digital camera (from dad)  
*wireless optical mouse (from "Aulë")  
*leather-bound Sindarin-Quenya dictionary (from Erestor)  
*insanely large bath towel (from dad)  
*fancy Sinda costume (from grandma and grandpa)  
*large feather pillow (from "Aulë")  
*box containing a travel hairbrush, travel alarm clock, travel-size shampoo, high-definition film, a pack of Incrediberry Koolaid, and two blank Cds (from Elrohir)  
*collection of underthings that I didn't feel comfortable showing anyone else (from Aerthos)  
*collection of seven different tabloid papers (from Rúmil and Ardlor)  
*flowering cactus (from Legolas)  
*book on organisational tips for small rooms and a gift certificate to Ikea (from Arwen and Aragorn)  
*ski socks and mittens (from Thranduil)  
*cineplex passes (from Haldir and Orophin)  
*jigsaw puzzle shaped like a cat and a video movie ratings book (from Thranduil's daughters)  
*book of mind puzzles and tests (from Círdan)  
*all the usual stuff in my stocking like gummi snowmen, icy squares, Blistex stick, candy cane, novelty hand-shaped soap, and a Nandorin orange.  
  
Rúmil and Ardlor were up in time to join in at the halfway point, and it was almost noon by the time everything was unwrapped.  All the used wrappings made a very nice fire.  Elrohir, as usual, had the largest pile of stuff.  His favourites were a big new iguana cage (from dad) and salt and pepper shakers shaped like a bum (from Orophin).  Grandpa was very happy with his paper shredder, and tried it out straight away on some used wrappings.  Grandma sat in the good rocking chair, put her feet in the paraffin spa, and stayed there with her eyes half closed until it was time to get dressed.  I put the batteries in my new camera and took some pictures of the fantastic mess of wrappings and boxes.  Legolas changed into his dog pyjamas right there in the living room with everybody watching.  
  
At ten minutes past noon, dad remembered that everyone had to be in front of the government building downtown at one for the big Fiommereth speech thing.  Chaos erupted.  Grandma found out that grandpa had brought his light silver formal outfit instead of the dark silver, which she had anticipated him wearing when she picked out her gown.  She then refused to appear in public wearing her pale gold, which, she claimed, would cause both her and grandpa to appear washed-out on camera when standing next to each other.  She was forced to dig through the cedar chest of mum's old things trying to find something suitably fabulous that would compliment pale silver.  After tossing aside the top five layers of foofy one-shouldered taffeta monstrosities as "too early Third Age", she eventually found something from the Second Age that was just retro enough to be fashionable again.  Grandpa, oblivious to the fuss he had created, was eating a toaster waffle.  He got a drop of syrup on his disruptive pale silver costume.  Elrohir covered it with an impromptu corsage made out of holly and packing tape.  
  
Thranduil, meanwhile, had lost one of his good shoes, and Círdan had completely forgotten to bring his formal speech-giving outfit.  He had to borrow something of dad's that was culturally ambiguous enough to be possibly mistaken for Telerin.  I wore my new Sinda costume from grandma and grandpa.  It had seven separate layers and was more difficult to put on than my usual stupid Noldo costume, but in the end felt less like I was wearing a boat tarp.  Elrohir also wore his new Sinda costume, but with his old Noldo trousers, since he had already managed to get a yogurt stain on the new ones.  Dad told him to make sure he stood behind grandma and grandpa for the whole speech thing because everybody knows Sindar don't wear wraparound trousers.  
  
We left home at twenty to one, with dad, me, Elrohir and Círdan in dad's car and Thranduil, his wife, Legolas, grandma and grandpa in Thranduil's van.  Everyone else had to stay at home and make supper.  We parked in a handicap spot beside the government building just as the television crews were checking their watches and dad's press secretary was running around with wild eyes and flailing hands.  She more or less dragged dad up to the podium on the stairs and he had ten seconds to compose himself before going live on the air.  The rest of us sort of filtered in behind him when we thought the timing was right.  On the taped version I watched later it looked like somebody new had popped up behind dad every time the camera cut away to pan the crowd and then cut back to him.  Elrohir's face was very prominent, straining as he was to peer over grandpa's shoulder.  
  
Dad spoke for about fifteen minutes, then made way for grandma and grandpa, followed by Círdan and finally Thranduil, who had to stand on his tiptoes and adjust the microphone because he is at least fifteen centimetres shorter than everybody else.  All of them talked about peace, togetherness, and the promising future of Valinor in the coming Fourth Age.  It was very iconic in a televisiony sort of way.  They shook hands, especially with Thranduil, and gave cheesy smiles to the camera.  The whole ordeal lasted about an hour, with no commercial breaks.  Then, while the speakers went around shaking hands with important community leaders, a handful of journalists from lesser-known television and radio stations came over to ask me, Elrohir, and Legolas questions about what we thought the future held for the Elven realms of Middle-earth.  Elrohir said, "Time.  Definitely lots of time. And like peace would be totally awesome too."  Legolas concurred.  I said something stupid like, "Without a doubt, I can thoroughly envisage a future rich in peace and prosperity not only for Rivendell but for all of Middle-earth.  A future in which equality, happiness, and goodwill are paramount.  We have seen the end of a dark time in our history, and we are now on the brink of a bright new era."  I gave my best fake smile to the photographers.  All those political science courses have completely ruined my street cred.  
  
We got home at quarter to three.  I walked into the house fully expecting the smell of roasting turkey, but instead found only the smell of turnips.  Erestor was standing in the front entryway with crossed arms and thinned lips.  He wordlessly dragged dad into the kitchen, pointed at an enormous turkey on the counter, and said, "It won't fit in the oven."  Dad said, "Don't be absurd," and picked up the turkey.  It wouldn't fit into the oven for him either.  Backwards, frontwards, sideways, upside-down or diagonal, the turkey was too big.  Haldir offered to cut off its legs and part of its bum, but dad hollered that he wouldn't stand for a defaced Fiommereth turkey.  Orophin said that it was already de-faced and what difference would it make if it were also de-legged and de-bummed, but that just made dad angrier.  He threw the gravy baster across the kitchen.  
  
Playing the diplomat, grandma said, "Don't you have a roast or ham or something in the freezer we could cook instead?"  Erestor looked, but all he found (aside from two packs of wieners) was a box of veal cutlets, and we couldn't have those because veal gives Elrohir gas.  Grandpa said, "What about that first small turkey you bought before you knew Thranduil was going to show up?"  Dad said he'd given that one away to somebody from work.  Then Thranduil said, "The only thing you can do now is go out and buy another turkey."  Dad hollered, "Where am I supposed to get another turkey today?!"  Erestor quietly said, "No Frills is open.  I saw their ad in the paper."  Dad grabbed my arm and said, "We're going to No Frills."  
  
In all the years I have been alive, dad has never once set foot inside No Frills.  He considers it, along with SuperStore and the Co-Op, to be a communist-based organisation bent on taking over the grocery industry with their cheap-prices-but-no-service manifesto.  He shops almost exclusively at Safeway, where apples cost 80 cents more per kilogram.  I'm surprised he even knew where No Frills was.  We went in the side door, slinking past a large throng of people gathered on the pavement, and made for the frozen meats.  There were two turkeys left. We chose the one without a large dent in the side.  We paid for the stupid thing and were on the home stretch when we stepped through the OUT door and into the tail end of a 24-hour food drive for the Rivendell Drop-In Centre.  The throng of people cheered at the site of The One And Only Elrond, still in his fancy speech-giving costume, standing right beside the food drive host and holding a large turkey.  
  
The host said, "I don't believe this, folks!  I just don't believe it!  Elrond himself had dropped in out of nowhere, and look at that beautiful turkey!  I'm telling you, ladies and gentlemen, this is a true Fiommereth miracle!"  Dad plastered on his fake smile, but I just know I saw him cringing as he was forced to hand our turkey over to the drop-in centre volunteers.  They gave him a button that said "I gave the gift of holiday cheer" in return.  He said a few words about helping the needy and giving to others less fortunate.  He had to wish everyone a merry Fiommereth and shake at least a hundred hands before they let him slip away, and even then the Access camera crew followed us all the way to the car.  As soon as we were a safe few blocks away dad made a low growly noise, but other than that neither of us said anything.  
  
We had sprouts, turnip, carrots, and mashed potato for Fiommereth supper.  No gravy on the potatoes, even, just salt and pepper.  Glorfindel would've been proud.  Afterward Thranduil gave everybody a little slice of the goose jerky Elrohir had given him, so that was almost traditional, if tradition had been flattened, dried, chemically processed, and shrink-wrapped to seal in authentic artificial smoke flavouring.  The only up side was that there were fewer dishes to wash, and no greasy turkey pan or crusty gravy pot to scrub.  The dishes were done in record time, and we even had half an hour to spare before sitting down to watch the taped replay of Aragorn's speech from earlier in the day.  He isn't a very good public speaker.  His tactic is to yell a bunch of clichés in a convincing voice while pointing at a flag.  The crowd seemed to love it, though.  Arwen was wearing a dress that was far too revealing for the occasion, but the crowd seemed to love that too.  
  
After that dad telephoned Arwen, and we all had a few minutes to chat with her about the holidays in Gondor before it was time to watch Finarfin's speech live from Tirion.  He looked tired and just about as stressed-out as dad.  Maybe this Fiommereth chaos was a world-wide epidemic.  Glorfindel was sitting on a chair behind him, so he had probably just endured holidays with Glorfindel, Aralindë, and the baby.  Glorfindel also looked a bit tired and stressed.  Sitting next to Glorfindel was somebody who I'm guessing was Finrod.  He kept giving Glorfindel stern looks, as if to say, "Stop scratching your nose; you're on international television."  After Finarfin's (rather long) speech was over, Glorfindel got up and paraphrased it in Sindarin for the benefit of non-Quenya-speaking viewers.  I'm not sure if Royal Translator is a step up or down from Chief Accountant of Rivendell.  
  
Only Elrohir, Legolas, Thranduil, and Orophin stayed up to watch Ingwë's speech.  Everyone else went to bed early.  Actually, that's not quite true.  I thought everyone else went to bed early, but when I went to the living room to search for my slippers, I passed the kitchen door and saw dad, Erestor, grandma and Círdan sitting at the table, passing around a joint.  I was very tempted to complain to grandpa about this, but then I couldn't remember if he'd be more likely to disapprove or join in, so I decided not to.  
  
December 26th  
  
Today just wasn't the same without a good plate of Merry Fiommereth Mush to eat in bed while watching DVDs.  A perfectly good family tradition has been ruined, and all because Thranduil showed up and forced dad to buy a turkey that was too big to fit in the oven!  I had a pizza pop and watched television for a while, but it wasn't anywhere near the same and the entire routine was thrown off.  I changed out of my pyjamas and went to see what else I could do around the house.  
  
I found dad trying to figure out how to work his new cordless telephone (a gift from grandma and grandpa).  He was convinced that it wasn't charging properly and/or was broken, until he remembered that he had to plug it into a telephone jack to get a dial tone.  Then I found Elrohir, Orophin, and Thranduil playing Nintendo in the living room.  They were all still wearing pyjamas.  At first I thought Thranduil was Legolas, but then I remembered seeing Legolas in the kitchen trying to make cookies in the microwave.  Thranduil turned away from Mario Kart long enough to ask me if I would take him shopping later.  I told him I would, then quickly took off to hide so he wouldn't be able to call me on that promise.  
  
I went back to the kitchen to find Legolas.  He was getting yelled at by his mother for spilling corn syrup all over the counter.  I had nothing better to do so I helped Legolas clean it up.  Legolas' mother told him I was a very good example and he should try to be more like me.  He said he was, though he didn't elaborate so much as to tell us in what capacity.  Then she asked me if I knew where Thranduil was.  I told her he was playing Nintendo in the living room, and she made an exasperated sort of noise and muttered something about Thranduil being more like an extra child than a husband.  I said yes, at his age, he should know better.  She snorted and said, "No, at his age he's still fighting to overcome the urge to go out and get drunk with his buddies every weekend."  Curiously, I asked her how old he was, and almost choked on my Five Alive when she said, in a disgusted voice, 3081.  
  
I suppose if I had been paying attention in my Mirkwood class, I would've learned that Thranduil became King at age 54, beating Gil-galad's youngest-ever-to-be-crowned record by 11 years.  But I didn't pay attention, so I had to go look that up in the encyclopaedia in the den.  I sat in a quiet corner by myself to get over the shock and do the math, and figured out that I am actually closer in age to Thranduil than to Legolas.  Then I made a flowchart to get everything into perspective.  The list of ages, from oldest to youngest, goes: Círdan, grandma or grandpa (grandpa claims time didn't exist before the rising of the Moon, so he doesn't know how old he is, but I think this is just a way to get out of admitting that he married an older woman), Glorfindel, Oropher, Erestor, Gil-galad, dad, mum, Haldir, Thranduil, Orophin, Elrohir and me, Rúmil, Arwen, Legolas.  I had just about come to terms with that when the telephone rang.  
  
It was Glorfindel.  I could hear a baby wailing in the background.  I think he was trying to escape his ill-thought-out fatherhood role.  I told him all about the terrific times we've been having here in Rivendell, and he kept asking questions in a voice that clearly sounded like he'd rather be here than wherever he was (probably Tirion).  He was especially impressed by the entirely vegan supper, and thought that spending Fiommereth with Thranduil and company would be "fun".  He said that supper with Finarfin had been the usual Noldorin three-kinds-of-meat affair, and he had been forced to wander the streets at midnight trying to find a falafel stand that was open.  Of course he didn't find one, since all the Vanyarin immigrants who run the falafel stands are deeply religious and don't believe in working on holidays.  He had to settle for a corporate franchise pita.  
  
I tried to change the subject to something more cheerful by mentioning that we all watched him on television, but he complained about that too.  He doesn't like having to act as Finarfin's translator, especially since he has issues with Finarfin's traditional capitalist government and doesn't want to be associated with it in any way.  In fact, he has recently joined the Socialist Labour Party and is considering running for office.  I reminded him that he was afraid of television cameras and hated being interviewed.  He said he was taking classes to get over that.  Then I heard a crash and some yelling in the background, and Glorfindel said very quietly, "I have to go.  Amma just dropped a pan of olive puffs and broke a tile.  I'll ring back tomorrow.  I don't have to pay the long distance here."  I asked where he was and he said, "Finarfin's."  
  
Talking to Glorfindel always makes me feel better, since no matter what's going on, his life is always more screwed-up than mine.  
  
After that I went and found grandpa, who was sitting at the dining room table doing an enormous crossword puzzle that took up nearly an entire page of today's newspaper.  I nicked the rest of the paper to read.  A picture of dad and Thranduil shaking hands was on the front page.  A picture of me with the headline "ELLADAN: Bright New Era" was on page three.  I cut that out to give to grandma, so she could put it in her scrapbook beside the clipping of Elrohir after he won a giant stuffed frog from the ring toss game at the fair and the one of me from the Grey Havens Telegraph being interviewed on the street about new bus stops.  
  
I microwaved another pizza pop for supper and went to bed early to watch television.  Haldir joined me for a while, but kept switching the channel to hockey.  I was glad when he left so I could watch Biography in peace.  It was a biography of Hador- one I'd never seen before.  After that was a biography of dad, which I didn't need to watch, so I switched to the A Channel just in time to see the opening credits for the movie about Ingwë that Elrohir was in last spring.  I yelled for him to come quick as I popped a blank tape into the video, and he came, towing Legolas and Orophin along with him.  They all got very excited and ran to get everybody else.  I lost my seat as dad, Erestor, grandma, grandpa and Círdan came in to watch and made me fold the hide-a-bed back up into a sofa.  At the first commercial break, Erestor went to microwave some popcorn and Orophin went to tell Rúmil and Ardlor, but they already knew and were watching it in their room with Haldir.  
  
Overall the movie was pretty cheesy and historically dubious, but still everyone was very proud to see Elrohir on television and not being interviewed about the unfairness of skateboarding bylaws for once.  Dad said we could go out for supper tomorrow night to celebrate.  Grandma said Elrohir was a very good Fëanor and that his movie was very nice, even though she did think the director should've found an actor without a Mirkwood accent to be Manwë's voice.  Besides Glorfindel and Aralindë, I was able to pick out two extras that I recognised.  A member of Finwë's entourage works at Taco Barn, and I went to school with one of the palace guards.  
  
After everybody else left to go to bed, Legolas asked Elrohir for his autograph.  Elrohir proudly signed Legolas' bum with a Sharpie, then took a picture of it with my new camera so Legolas could still have the autograph after the ink washed off.  I now have a photo of Legolas' bum saved on my hard drive.  The sad thing is, I can't decide whether that's good or bad.  
  
December 27th  
  
Thranduil is addicted to drugs.  And not the usual kind of drugs that normal people are addicted to, like cocaine and heroin.  No, Thranduil has to be different, and is addicted to all the perfectly legal drugs one can buy at any apothecary.  So far today I have watched him consume: two Tylenol with codeine, two Advil, one Aspirin, a generic brand acetaminophen gel cap, three pink somethings that came out of a blister pack, a spoonful of protein powder dissolved in fruit juice, a vitamin A pill, four different B vitamin pills, six vitamin Cs (both large orange flavoured and small unflavoured), a vitamin E gel cap, calcium with vitamin O, a Centrum for women who are trying to get pregnant (snitched from his wife when he couldn't find his own regular Centrum), iron supplement, and more caffeine pills than I'm sure are necessary.  
  
I took him shopping this morning to get away from the house, where the phone kept going off every other minute.  People were ringing to congratulate Elrohir on the movie.  Agencies were ringing to ask if he had representation.  Various local businesses were ringing to enquire after his availability for locally-produced advertisements.  The U of R rang to ask him to come back to their theatre honours program, and even offered to overlook all the fails on his transcript.  Dad started to get rather rude in his telephone-answering after the first twenty.  So when Thranduil asked again if I would take him shopping, I jumped at the opportunity.  
  
I thought he'd probably want to go to the usual shopping centres to look around, but while driving past Super Drug Mart he yelled, "There!  Let's go there!"  We went there, and stayed for well over two hours.  Thranduil was in a state of bliss looking over two entire aisles of non-prescription treasures to purchase.  I did three tours around the store, spending as much time as one could possibly spend looking at shampoo, deodorant, hair colourant, and batteries.  Then, when Thranduil still wasn't done filling his basket with everything that looked remotely useful, I stood behind him ominously and hoped he'd get the hint.  He didn't.  Forty minutes and almost three hundred dollars later, we were finally back in the car.  I was glad he didn't want to go anywhere else.  
  
As we drove home he listed his inventory of purchases to me.  He bought the regular assortment of vitamins plus various new exotic plant extracts and powders of stuff I've never heard of, pills to take away muscle pain, pills to take away joint pain, pills to take away tension pain, pills to take away generic all-over pain, pills to gain weight, pills to lose weight, pills to go to sleep, pills to wake up, pills to stay awake, pills to stay asleep, pills to maximise food energy, pills to augment food energy, pills to replace food energy, pills for fresh breath, pills for shiny hair, pills for clear skin, pills to clear one's system of toxins, pills to keep one's system toxin-free, and pills to maximise the effect of other pills.  He also bought a tube of Blistex.  
  
When we got home I asked his wife about his pill dependence.  She said it stemmed from insecurity over being noticeably short and started with him ordering a jar of Muscle Man pills from the back of a comic book when he was in school.  To this day, every time she wears high heels it sets him off on a serious protein pill binge.  They are the exact same height in flat shoes and he can't handle any artificial height difference.  Then I watched her take one of her trying-to-get-pregnant vitamins.  I'm not sure why she wants those, since she and Thranduil have seven kids already.  I think they are both a bit wacko.  
  
Just after supper, Glorfindel rang Thranduil's mobile.  After chatting for a few minutes and not getting anywhere because Thranduil had taken a few too many caffeine pills and kept going off on tangents of very fast but nonsensical speech, he asked to speak to me.  He asked me if the telephone was off the hook, because he'd been trying to get through all of last night and all of this morning (his time, I'm guessing).  But before I could explain the situation of Elrohir being a celebrity, he told me that everything in Tirion is good and started talking about Elairon.  I think Glorfindel is on drugs too, but the illegal sort.  He sounded far mellower than his situation warrants and said "fantastic" very slowly, four times.  I passed him off to Erestor next, then Erestor handed him off to dad, and dad passed him over to grandma.  He and grandma talked for a good while until grandma said, "No!  No, I refuse to- Don't you dare!  Glorfindel, if you even think of... Oh hallo atto."  
  
The next few minutes were rather awkward as she gave Finarfin a brief summary of her life these past seven thousand years, speaking in funny Quenya that sounded like it was halfway between the proper kind I learn in school and the kind Glorfindel speaks.  The House of Finarfin seems to have a dialect unto itself.  She informed her father that she was married now and had one daughter and three grandchildren, so I'm guessing they haven't spoken in a long while.  Then Finarfin must've asked to speak to grandpa, the heathen dark Elf for whom grandma abandoned her culture and birthright, because she scowled and passed the phone to him.  He looked confused and kept saying, "I'm sorry, I don't understand you... I don't speak your language..." then gave up and handed the phone to Erestor, who finished the conversation pretending to be grandpa.  When it was all over grandpa worriedly asked, "What did you say?"  Erestor said, "I told him that I, meaning you, met Galadriel while fox hunting with Fingolfin in Dor Lómin, and was made an honorary member of Fingolfin's court for my skill and horsemanship.  He seemed to like that."  
  
Grandpa went a bit bonkers and shouted, "But that never happened!  We met at Daeron's birthday luau!  What if he finds out and thinks I'm a liar?!"  Grandma said, "Don't be absurd.  How would he ever find out?"  Just then Thranduil's mobile rang again.  I answered.  It was Glorfindel.  Glorfindel said, "Why did Celeborn tell Finarfin he met Galadriel while fox hunting?  Finrod just said those two met at Daeron's birthday party during Galadriel's first week in Doriath, after Aegnor got drunk on sambucca and knocked a tiki torch into the lilac tree.  It's causing mass confusion!"  I could hear confused shouting in the background.  Obviously the news of grandma and grandpa's backyard barbeque liaison was causing Finarfin serious grief.  Grandma and grandpa didn't need to know that though, so I said, "I'm sorry, we're not interested," and disconnected.  Thranduil asked who it was, just in case he was interested.  I told him it was carpet cleaners.  Then he got upset because his carpets at home really did need cleaning, and he'd been waiting for months for somebody to telephone him with a deal.  
  
At about this point I realised I had a terrible headache, so I went to lie down in the den.  Elrohir and Legolas were playing Bust-A-Move.  The electronic music and bleepy sounds were soothing after the cacophony of everybody shouting about fox hunts and luaus.  We never did go out for supper.  Clearly, dad is a liar.  
  
December 28th  
  
Dad has had it up to here with all the fuss over Elrohir's movie and discussion of Daeron's birthday luau.  He marched into the den around midnight last night and said, "We are leaving town."  Elrohir asked where we were going, and dad said, "We are going skiing."  I asked if this was Thranduil's idea.  Dad said no, but I think he was lying again.  Then he told us we would be leaving today at noon.  That is inadequate time in which to prepare for a ski vacation, I think.  I can't remember where I stored my ski kit, or my skis for that matter.  Elrohir and I searched through all the bags of clothes in the garage, but all we found were some very old things of his.  I think I might be forced to wear his old snowboard gear with duct tape on the bum.  People will think dad neglects me.  Which is actually true, but what can you expect from someone of his upbringing?  His idea of quality family time is all of us being in the same building at the same time.  
  
Rúmil and Ardlor are not coming skiing.  They have had enough quaint family holidaying to last forever, and have opted to check into the Marriott downtown until the movie people get their housing situation sorted out.  Haldir and Orophin are not coming skiing either, but are staying here to water our plants, feed the iguana, and continue the quest to find the cat (who has been eating her food every night but has not been seen in weeks).  Círdan's flight back to the Grey Havens leaves on the 30th, so he's staying with Haldir and Orophin until then.  Grandma and grandpa are coming along to the resort but are not going to ski, and Thranduil's small army is coming in full force.  We have six rooms booked at the Anorhíl Village Fairmont starting tomorrow night.  I just know I'm going to be stuck sharing with Elrohir and Legolas.  I just know it.  
  
December 29th  
  
We stayed at the Red Carpet Inn, arriving late last night.  It was surprisingly nice for a ski town motel that only charges $79 per night.  It had new carpet, new paint, new wall paper, and furniture that wasn't all scuffed up.  It made me uneasy wondering how it could possibly be so cheap.  Then I finally noticed all the religious things.  All the books for sale in the lobby had titles like "Eru Made Elves", the postcards were pictures of things like the nearby monument to Elbereth, there was a prayer book and a guide to local temples in the bedside table, and a framed proverb about the Valar on the wall above the telly.  The owners were seducing us with cheap rates and then forcing their religious views on us hapless victims, and I pointed all this out to Elrohir and Legolas as we unpacked our things in the room we were stuck sharing.  Elrohir wondered why a religious motel would be called the Red Carpet Inn.  Legolas said, "I bet Elbereth's dog sleeps on a red carpet."  He and Elrohir were up half the night discussing the likelihood of Elbereth owning a dog.  
  
Dad woke us up at six this morning so we wouldn't miss a minute of skiing fun.  I groggily got dressed in my crappy ski gear, packed up my things, and stumbled down to the car.  It was still dark outside.  Dad was in such a hurry to get going that we didn't even have time for a proper breakfast: we just got donuts from a drive-through window.  I fell asleep on the drive up the mountain.  So did Elrohir and Legolas, and we all ended up sort of flopped against each other in the back seat of Erestor's Tempo.  Erestor took a picture with my camera and showed us when we woke up.  From the angle of the photo, it looks like Legolas' hand is in a very awkward spot in my lap.  At least I'm hoping it's just the angle of the photo.  
  
As we pulled into the car park at Anorhíl ski resort, I could clearly see the big scrolling screen atop the gondola lodge displaying "DECEMBER 29TH" and "BASE TEMP -29°  VILLAGE TEMP -32°".  Elrohir was first out of the car, and he said, "Crap it's cold!"  I followed him out and had to agree.  Erestor said, "I'm not skiing in this weather," and that started an argument between him and dad, over pre-purchased lift tickets and a non-refundability clause.  I slunk off to the ski rental queue so I wouldn't have to listen to them.  By the time I got back things had quietened down, but only because they weren't on speaking terms any more.  Dad silently handed me my lift pass, and I went to join Elrohir and Legolas in the gondola line.  According to grandma, who showed up sometime later, dad and Erestor went up the hill in separate gondolas.  
  
At the top of the gondola were four chair lifts.  It was so cold that Legolas and I decided to go up the shortest chair.  By the time we came back down we had to sit in the day lodge for fifteen minutes to warm up our frozen hands and feet.  Then we did one more run, then sat in the lodge for another fifteen minutes.  The entire morning passed like that, until we met up with Elrohir, who was shivering so much he couldn't talk properly.  We sat in the lodge for half an hour and had a lunch of hot soup.  Then, since we were feeling a bit more adventurous and since we heard on the lodge radio that the temperature had gone up to -27, we set off to go up the Eagle chair and then the Summit chair to the top of the mountain.  We had to sit in the cookie shack at the top of the Summit chair for fifteen minutes to warm up, and then come back in to the day lodge for hot chocolate once we got to the bottom.  In total, I think I spent twice as much time in the day lodge as I did actually skiing.  
  
At 4-30 when the lifts closed, we hauled all our crap up to the on-hill hotel.  Grandpa and Erestor were sitting in the lobby playing cards.  As I tried to coax circulation back into my fingers, I couldn't help but think that they had the right idea.  Erestor said that he had already checked us in, and handed Elrohir, Legolas and me our key cards.  We are sharing a room, of course.  It is between dad and Erestor's room and Thranduil's room.  I am going to be hearing noises filtering through both walls all night, between the trying-to-get-pregnant vitamins and the inevitable apology sex.  
  
All our bags had already been brought up to the room.  I changed out of my ski things and immediately flopped down on one of the beds, and must have fallen asleep straight away.  I am clearly not in very good shape if a day of sitting around in the lodge and some skiing can wear me out like that.  But I woke up to dad shaking me, saying it was time to go for supper.  I was too tired to want to go for supper, but also too hungry to want to stay in bed, so I settled halfway and wore my pyjamas down to the dining room.  Dad made a disapproving face, but I don't think anyone else noticed, since my pyjamas consist of GHU sweats and tee-shirt.  I ordered fish sticks.  I think the pyjamas were preventing me from wanting to order anything remotely resembling adult food, like chicken stuffed with mushrooms or grilled vegetables on soy noodles.  Thranduil didn't join us for supper.  I'm pretty sure he was still out on the hill, walking up and skiing down.  
  
After supper I went down to the pool and sat in the hot tub with grandma for a while, but she got mad at me for calling her "grandma" while she was shamelessly flirting with some college boys.  Then she got madder at me when they started laughing and called her a cougar.  I left the pool area and went to watch television with grandpa, only he kept falling asleep in the recliner and wasn't very good company.  So after wandering around the hotel corridors aimlessly for about half an hour, I gave up and went back to the room.  The television was showing music videos and Elrohir and Legolas were sitting on the bed, surrounded by candy.  They had spent thirty eight dollars on candy at the gift shop, and were arm wrestling over the last Reese cup.  I solved the dilemma and ate it for them.  Then, once they were good and hyper from all the sugar and chemicals, they went down to the pool to go water sliding.  Elrohir thought it would be the funniest thing ever to wear two bathing suits at the same time, so he did.  Experience is telling me that they'll be kicked out within the hour.   
  
December 30th  
  
When dad came to wake us up this morning, he got confused when he saw four pair of swim shorts drying on the radiator and only three of us in the room.  The problem will likely stay with him for the rest of the day.  
  
I didn't really want to go skiing, but Elrohir wanted me to take some action photos of him going over jumps, so I figured I might as well.  I spent a lot of time huddled near the bottom of snowboard jumps, watching for Elrohir and trying to keep warm.  After three hours I only had two decent shots because I kept having to stick my camera down the front of my parka to warm it up and I missed the jumps.  Then dad happened to ski by, and he insisted on taking us all up to the highest peak on the Top of the World T-bar.  I couldn't feel my hands by the time we got to the top, and then I still had to face the long ski down.  It was followed by a good forty minutes in the day lodge, drinking cider and eating stew.  Legolas joined me halfway through.  He sat down, put his head in his hands, and said, "I never want to go outside again."  Thranduil had made him go down a run on the south side of the mountain, and he took a wrong turn and got stuck in a valley full of trees.  He still had pine needles on his hat.  
  
We waited until dad and Thranduil came in for lunch and told them we were off to explore some new runs we hadn't done yet.  Then, as soon as they were safely in the hamburger queue and unable to watch us, we went straight to the hotel and dumped our skis in the locker room.  We spent the rest of the afternoon looking in the hotel gift shops, watching an ice sculpture contest, and posing as EnMax employees to get in on a complimentary wine and cheese reception.  At four we changed back into our ski clothes and went and sat in the day lodge to wait for Elrohir.  All in all, it was much better than actually skiing.  
  
December 31st  
  
I looked at my ski pass this morning and saw that it was good through to January 2nd.  I can't take that much skiing!  Legolas and I are running out of creative ways to stay inside.  Erestor spotted us in the games room today.  We went back outside after that, but I had to stoop to pretending to twist my ankle to get out of going up the Top of the World tee-bar with dad again.  
  
The only thing I can think of now is to get really hammered tonight at the hotel's New Years' celebration and hopefully wind up with too bad a hangover to be able to ski tomorrow.  
  
January 1st, 3020  
  
Got hammered as per plan, and suffered through the resulting bad hangover.  Unfortunately, dad thought that fresh air and exercise would be the perfect cure for said hangover, so I had to go skiing today after all.  Even worse, he stuck by my side every minute to make sure I was getting the most out of it.  The only up side was that it wasn't so cold today.  Only -19.  Only!  Ha!  I can't wait to get back to the Grey Havens.  The entire city shuts down if the temperature drops below -10.  
  
I can't really remember which runs dad and I did.  I only remember being cold and trying not to fall.  I kept looking at my watch, but noon couldn't come fast enough.  Then when it did come, lunch sped by, and I was back on the hill again with dad.  Elrohir also joined us.  Then I kept looking at my watch waiting for 4-30 to come.  Then when 4-30 finally came, I went straight to my room and fell asleep.  I woke up at ten, and I haven't been able to get back to sleep.  My plans never work out right!  Tomorrow I will have to ask Elrohir to help me think up a get-out-of-skiing plan.  For some reason, his zany schemes have a higher rate of success.  
  
January 2nd  
  
The scheme Elrohir came up with sounded brilliant at first, and probably was brilliant until I actually tried to pull it off.  His idea was for me to hire a snowboard for the day, thus being able to stay on the beginner hill and far away from dad.  Everything went wonderfully until I actually tried to snowboard.  
  
I couldn't even stand up on the dumb thing.  Every time I got myself almost vertical, I started to tip either forward or backward.  Within minutes, both my wrists and my bum were aching.  Then, once I had almost mastered the standing up part, Elrohir forced me to try the moving part.  I fell over many more times.  The next several hours went more or less along those same lines.  But after lunch I managed to slide about ten metres without falling over.  After another hour, I was up to twenty metres.  Finally, by the end of the day, I could go the length of the rope tow without falling.  I still couldn't stop properly, though.  My stopping method consisted of falling over.  If I were a character in a romance novel, I just know some dashing snowboard pro would have come swooshing up to offer me the benefit of his expertise (among other things).  But alas I am only me, and the only snowboard genius around was Elrohir, who seemed more concerned with writing "X-MEN HELLO" in the snow than helping me learn how to not fall over.  
  
However, Elrohir and I did manage to spend the entire day doing pretty much nothing, and it went much more quickly than being dragged all over the mountain by dad.  Also, falling over is hard work.  I was actually sweating by the end of the afternoon.  Legolas, unfortunately, wasn't so lucky.  Thranduil had dragged him through all sorts of expert-only runs and dubious trails through the trees, where he cracked one of his ski boots.  He fell asleep in the gondola on the way back down to the car park, and slept in the car on the entire long drive back to Rivendell.  I tried to sleep, but between his and Elrohir's snoring there was no way.  I was forced to talk to dad and Erestor instead.  That became awkward after a few seconds, so dad decided to put on a tape.  The only tape we could all agree on was Blondie.  We listened to a continuous Blondie loop all the way home.  
  
January 3rd  
  
There were well over 100 unheard messages on our answering service when we got home.  Dad made me listen to them all this morning and delete everything he didn't need to hear.  I deleted 136 messages and kept three.  The first one was from Círdan, saying he arrived safely back at the Grey Havens, though he thinks he left his hand towel in the bathroom.  The second was from Glorfindel, wondering where we were.  There were four other messages from Glorfindel as well, but I only kept the most recent one.  Then the third was from Aerthos.  I immediately felt sort of bad for not telephoning him in weeks.  He sounded a bit sad on the message.  Also a bit mad at me.  Probably more mad at me than sad.  I would have telephoned him right then, but it was time to take grandma and grandpa and Haldir and Orophin to the airport.  
  
I rang him once I got back.  I tried to say that it wasn't for lack of interest that I hadn't telephoned earlier, and told him about the extra guests and Thranduil and the skiing adventure, but all he said was, "Oh."  Then I asked him about his holidays.  He said he spend a usual Fiommereth in Forlond with his parents.  His aunt and uncle came over for turkey dinner one night, but that's about it.  I said it sounded very relaxing and unstressful.  He said it was boring and he wished I had been around.  I told him I'd be back at the Grey Havens tomorrow, but even that didn't do much to make him sound cheerier.  In fact the entire conversation was pretty depressing.  After a few minutes I couldn't take it any more so I lied and told him that dad needed to use the telephone for important government business.  I am a terrible boyfriend.  I kept hoping dad would show up within a few seconds and say he really did need to use the telephone, thus removing a bit of my guilt, but no such luck.  He was too busy helping Erestor undecorated the house.  
  
After packing up all my things and getting ready to go back to the Grey Havens tomorrow, I went to spend a last few quality hours in the den with Elrohir and Legolas.  Unfortunately they weren't in the den, so I got to spend a few quality hours with them in the kitchen.  They were holding scientific trials to figure out which soft drinks best went with which foods.  According to their findings, Coke goes well with chilli but tastes like dust when mixed with Dentyne, Fresca goes with pickles but not with chicken soup, Sprite goes with almost everything and is best with noodles, and Junior Mints nullify the taste of Dr. Pepper.  I asked which soft drink they'd recommend to go with Pizza Pops, and they said Orange Crush.  We had Pizza Pops with Orange Crush for supper, followed by a desert of Jolly Ranchers and lemon tea.  It was all surprisingly harmonious.  Elrohir truly is a junk food connoisseur.  
  
I am going to miss interesting suppers like that when I get back to residence, where they feed us almost exclusively pasta and hamburgers. 


	19. The Elladan Show: 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

 January 4th  
  
I am back in my dorm room, all alone, by myself.  It is more than a little depressing after a holiday spent at home in dad's spacious house with all those very active people, but at least it is quiet.  And I have a few activities to occupy me and take my mind off how boring it is here.  Those should last me at least another half-hour, so provided something very exciting happens at the end of that time, I'll be set for tonight.  
  
I've already unpacked everything and rearranged my room, deciding that I'd rather have my bed under the window and my desk along the wall by the door.  That took some manoeuvring, since there was nowhere to put the one when I was moving the other.  My bed spent a good few minutes out in the hall.  I hope nobody was trying to get past during that time.  Then the telephone rang while I had my desk sideways and I was sort of trapped in the corner, and when I tried to answer I knocked the phone off the table where it was precariously balanced and it disconnected.  It was probably Aerthos on the line.  I should ring him later.  
  
When Elrohir stopped by after supper, he was quite impressed that I had taken the effort to rearrange my room.  Apparently he considers such creative endeavours to be above my meagre talents.  He approves of the bed by the window, even if it does block six inches of the closet.  His own bed is currently wedged between his desk and the wall, on a slight tilt, to give him two square metres of floor space to lie down and play Nintendo in comfort, though he is considering getting rid of the bed altogether and just covering the floor in pillows so he can simply fall asleep wherever he ends up at night.  I'm sure that's against dorm regulations, but apparently he's been elected the new floor monitor so nobody's going to call him on it.  
  
How is this possible?  Elrohir the floor monitor?  Is the building supervisor insane?!  He could have at least picked somebody responsible, somebody who has memorised the list of what's against dorm regulations, somebody who knows the fire safety code, and maybe even somebody who has intentions to become some sort of leader on a larger scale.  Somebody like me, for instance.  I am a Poli Sci major!  I will be PM of Rivendell one day!  I am meant to be floor monitor!  Apparently all these classes are a sham if politics is all one big popularity contest anyhow.  
  
Speaking of classes, my first one of the semester starts at noon tomorrow.  It is my Poli Sci 486AE directed study, focusing on modern leadership strategies and goals.  Afterward I have conversational Quenya 400, with Elrohir.  I'm dreading that stupid class already.  Tuesday at 10 is Kinesiology 310, more commonly known as phys ed.  I signed up for the badminton class in hope that there won't be too much lap-running involved.  Then after that comes Poli Sci 442, Elven Governments in Middle-earth.  My fifth class is just an elective to fill time and get the final three credits, so I chose the easiest thing I could think of.  Elrohir's in it, which may or may not be a good sign, but I signed up for Theatre Design 120: prop making.  I'll have to see how that goes.  I'm really hoping it just involves making things like fake swords and break-away chairs, and that I don't have to do any actual research.  
  
January  5th  
  
I am the only person in my 486 class.  Nobody else wanted a directed study in modern leadership strategies and goals, so it's just me and the professor, sitting in her office and talking about stuff.  The first thing she did was ask me why I wanted to go into politics.  I said, "If I'm not elected PM of Rivendell within the next three years, my dad will kill me.  He wants to retire in Valinor and needs me to take his place."  She didn't seem to think that was the right answer.  We talked for a bit about what politicians do and if that sounds like the right career choice for me, and then she asked what I would do with my life if dad didn't have any plans for me.  I told her I wanted to be a flight attendant.  I have no idea what made me say that, but it was the first thing that came into my mind and out of my mouth.  She gave me a funny look and steered quickly back to the topic of politics.  The class is supposed to be an hour and a half, but we only met for about forty minutes.  At the end of it she told me to write a six-to-eight-page report on a politician I admired, due next Monday.  She also said not to bother coming to class on Wednesday, since there would be nothing to do.  This sounds like it might be easy.  
  
In Quenya I sat across the room from Elrohir, hoping that would prevent us from being paired up for assignments.  It seemed to work.  I was paired with a girl who had very large eyes.  She blinked far more often than a regular person- at least once per second.  It was distracting, and I kept screwing up our conversation about the holidays by saying "hendu" instead of her name. Elrohir was stuck with Nova.  I think she wants him back now that he's a movie star.  
  
Then when I got back to my room I rang Aerthos.  He wanted to come over, but for whatever reason I wasn't really up to seeing him.  So I told him that my room was in a bit of chaos due to poorly-thought-out reorganisation (which was true), and that I was tired and had an early class tomorrow (which was not).  We agreed to meet for lunch before Poli Sci 442, though, which we have together.  He sounded a bit antsy.  I felt a bit dreading-ish.  I think I might be going off him.  
  
Also, after further consideration, I have decided that I really don't want to be a flight attendant at all.  I hate airports, the stuffy dry air inside planes makes me sneeze, I can't stand doing things for people, and I've never gotten along with children.  And one must be fully trilingual in Sindarin, Quenya and Westron to work for any of the major airlines in Rivendell or the Grey Havens, which I am not.  I could be a flight attendant in Mirkwood, since one only needs to speak Sindarin there, but then I'd have to live in Mirkwood.  
  
January 6th  
  
We played badminton in P.E. as per the syllabus, and ran no laps.  If the rest of the semester stays just like this, I will be happy.  
  
After I showered and changed back into regular clothes I went to meet Aerthos in the food court for lunch.  I found him standing in front of Pizza Pizza, looking unenthusiastically at a congealed slice of pepperoni.  I was feeling a bit devious right then, so I snuck up behind him, grabbed him around the waist, and spun around a few times.  He made a great squeaking sound, and his hair smelled like peaches.  Unfortunately he then punched me in the arm for scaring him like that, though it was followed by a hug and many affectionate insults, so everything worked out alright.  I think I do still like him after all.  Especially when he smells like peaches.  
  
I got some sort of stir fry noodle bowl and he took his congealed pizza, and we sat in the corner of the food court.  Everything was going perfectly normally, with us talking about Fiommereth and new classes and so forth, until he had to go and bugger it up by asking if I want to move in with him.  Move in with him!  We've only been dating for two months (or less than one and a half if you subtract the time I was away at home), and already he wants this big commitment thing!  I didn't know what to say.  Which was good, because he said, "You don't have to answer right away.  Just consider it."  Then he told me that his roommate got married over the holidays and moved out to live with his new wife, and now he's trying to find a replacement and would like that replacement to be me.  I told him I would consider it, even though the prospect was a bit frightening.  
  
During class I made a list of the pros and cons of living with Aerthos:  
  
PROS:  
* Would force me to take this relationship more seriously  
* Would get me out of tiny crappy dorm room  
* Would have space to put things, not to mention own bathroom  
* Would greatly increase probability of getting lucky every night  
  
CONS:  
* Would probably make me sick of Aerthos within a week  
* Would make Elrohir jealous  
* Would force me to cook and clean  
* Dad would certainly not approve  
  
Aerthos invited me round to the house to check things out after supper tomorrow night.  I think he expects me to have made a decision by then.  
  
January 7th  
  
Couldn't concentrate in Quenya today for worrying about moving in with Aerthos.  Or maybe it was because we were learning technical vocabulary.  Either way, I accomplished nothing and will have three sheets of fill-in-the-blanks work about occupational health and safety to do for next class.  Afterward I asked Elrohir what he thought, and he didn't seem too thrilled at the idea of me leaving him alone in residence.  Just like I suspected, he was jealous.  Then I rang dad to ask what he thought, hoping he would forbid me from leaving the dorm and thus making the decision very easy.  But instead he told me that he was happy for me to finally be part of a decent relationship, and that he thought it would be a step in the right direction.  Happy for me!  And he's all for it!  This is certainly a conflict of interests.  Not to mention no help to me whatsoever.  I might have to flip a coin.  Or ring a psychic hotline for advice.  
  
January 8th  
  
I ended up telling Aerthos I would be unable to move in with him, due to Elrohir being jealous and lonely.  He very unexpectedly replied, "There's another bedroom in the basement that Elrohir is welcome to have if he wants to come too."  The room was unfinished and had concrete floors and no door, but Elrohir probably wouldn't mind.  
  
Now I really don't know what to do.  I have lived in a non-supervised house with Elrohir before.  The result is not pretty.  
  
Also, we had to run laps and play basketball in PE, and some dunce hit me in the back of the head with one of the balls.  That just put a damper on the whole day.  
  
January 9th  
  
Elrohir is not up for moving.  Now that he's been elected floor monitor, he has real power (insofar as "power" means "the ability to tell people to keep it down and stop running") and isn't about to give that up.  Not even for the prospect of a real bathroom and lights that aren't fluorescents.  
  
But still, the more I think about it, the more I think I want to move out.  Not specifically to be with Aerthos, but to get away from Residence.    
  
Last night the yob in the next room was playing 50 Cent until half three, and somebody was talking loudly in the corridor.  I would complain to the floor monitor, but I'm highly suspicious that he was, if not a perpetrator, then at least a participant in both infractions.  And said infractions are starting to bother me more and more the longer I think about a good night's rest in a nice quiet house away from the uni.  I can hear people getting up to brush their teeth or go to the biff.  Every shuffle outside my door brings me closer and closer to taking Aerthos up on his offer.  
  
January 10th  
  
I rang Aerthos at 8.30 a.m. to say I would be moving in sometime in the coming week.  The entire building was awakened early this morning by a fire alarm, which caused us all to trudge outside in the slush until the problem could be addressed.  The problem was a bunch of first-years having a séance and burning strange concoctions in the girls' lavatory.  I will not be sorry to leave this place behind.  
  
Aerthos said, "Oh."  There was something of an uncomfortable pause.  I said, "What?"  He said, "I thought you chose not to move in here.  I told my old roommate's cousin he could have the room last night."  
  
For all the worrying and dithering I did over the stupid room, I am more than a little disappointed and upset.  Now every blaring stereo, every video game, and every toga party is going to seem twice as annoying, since I had the chance to move out but missed it!  I should be kicking myself.  Should be, but I just remembered I have homework.  How does this stuff creep up on me?  I have to write that dumb report about a politician I admire.  Really, I don't admire any of them.  They're all equally dull.  Except Maeglin.  I ought to write about him, just to see what would happen.  Apart from getting kicked out of school and sent to a therapist...  
  
January 11th  
  
I wrote my paper about Glorfindel.  He isn't really a politician (yet), but he's the only politically-related person I can think of whom I admire.  Even if he is a knob half the time and ingests too many controlled substances.  Glorfindel has stood as an admirable opposition to every boring Noldorin political regime since Fingolfin, and has even been arrested because of it.  It is probably through his friendship with Thranduil alone that Mirkwood hasn't become alienated from Rivendell completely.  And now (at least according to his latest email) he wants to challenge Finarfin's poor social record as well.  All that and he claims to have been born in a one-room hut in one of the poorest areas of Valmar (I'm not sure if that's true, having been unable to contact his mum to verify the claim, but it makes for a good story).  
  
Best of all, I was able to write a nine-page paper about Glorfindel without consulting any books or legitimate academic sources whatsoever.  I think I'm finally getting better at this university thing.  
  
January 12th  
  
Tryouts for the Orc Killing team were announced in P.E. today.  There was a murmur going through the locker room that there aren't enough orcs about to kill any more, and some blockheaded environmental studies student said they were becoming an endangered species, but still tryouts are being held on Saturday afternoon.  I'm torn between wanting to try out and knowing that it'll take up too much of my free time, especially now that all events will have to be held further north up in the mountains due to dwindling orc populations.  Travel time alone will be ghastly.  I asked Aerthos what he thought while we had lunch in the food court, but all he said was, "You're not serious, are you?"  
  
I tried to explain that orc killing is actually one of the few things I'm still good at (now that my computer pinball skills have gone completely down the drain), and besides, it leads to fresh air and exercise.  He only made a face and said that it's messy.  He didn't understand why an "archaic, barbaric pass-time" like riding around on a horse with a bow and shooting "some poor orc" could be considered a sport.  Some poor orc my heinie!  He has obviously never met one in the wild.  They are awful, miserable things, and smell worse than the bears at the zoo.  
  
As can be expected, the remainder of lunch was coolly awkward.  I will have to remember not to mention orcs around him again, and not to wear my GHU Orc Killing Team jersey from two years ago when he's looking.  
  
January 14th  
  
While hot-gluing felt and styrofoam packing peanuts to a plastic dinghy paddle in the prop-making class today, I asked Elrohir if he was going to be trying out for the Orc Killing team.  He said no, he was trying out for the theatre group instead.  This year they're putting on a new play that's never been performed before.  He wouldn't tell me any more than it's a rock opera, but he sounded unduly excited and full of beans so I know there's something more going on.  It's probably a rock opera about iguanas.  Or maybe it just has lots of foul language and nudity.  In either case, I should probably worry about it.  
  
January 16th  
  
There has been an Incident.  
  
Erestor left dad this morning after a row over an unwashed porridge pot.  My telephone started ringing at eleven sharp, first dad, then Erestor, so I got to hear both sides of the story.  
  
Dad is fed up with Erestor's porridge habits.  Every morning, dad gets up and makes himself a breakfast of toast and either scrambled eggs or Corn Flakes.  Erestor gets up slightly later and makes his breakfast as dad is leaving for work.  He always makes porridge (or sometimes Cream of Wheat or Sunny Boy), and then leaves the porridge pot on the stove to get crusty all day.  Dad, who leaves work before Erestor, always comes home to the sight of the dirty porridge pot on the stove.  He has had enough.  
  
Erestor claims he doesn't have time to wash the porridge pot before he leaves for work, and that he washes it when he does the supper dishes.  He could leave it to soak in the sink so that it doesn't get crusty, but that would result in water spots on his good pots.  Erestor prides himself on shiny kitchenware.  He doesn't see any problem with leaving the crusty porridge pot out if it's eventually going to get washed.  
  
However.  This morning, dad was pushed to the limits of porridge pot tolerance.  Being Saturday, Erestor didn't have to go to work, and therefore had time after breakfast to wash the porridge pot.  But still he left it to sit on the stove.  So dad, fuelled by years of pent-up frustration, set the dirty pot prominently on Erestor's pillow.  Chaos erupted when Erestor found it as he went to get dressed after his shower.  Erestor left in a fury and now resides in Lindir's spare room.  Lindir, he says, has a new Teflon kitchen set, so crusty porridge residue won't be an issue when it comes time to do the washing-up.  
  
I tried my best to sound concerned and sympathetic, really I did.  
  
It is my experience that the world grows narrower in direct proportion to a person's age, so that by the time you're 6000 or so the most pressing issues in your life revolve around things like offensive porridge pots and annoying habits of the significant other.  I know grandpa's main worries are that grandma will forget to clean the lint trap on the dryer, which will start the ducts on fire, and that she'll leave the car parked out of the garage where birds can poop on the windscreen.  Judging from his example, dad and Erestor are only going to get worse.  
  
Then Glorfindel rang.  He said had stolen Finarfin's mobile and was currently standing in a large crowd at the base of the Mindon Eldaliéva in downtown Tirion, waiting for Ingwë to appear so Aralindë can take her oath of servitude and be properly converted to the Vanyarin religion so they can get married in twelve hours.  He also said it was raining.  I had to ask him to repeat the first part, so he explained in a bit more detail that since Ingwë was in Tirion for whatever reason, this was their one chance to have Aralindë make her promises of Valadáva so that their Tirion civil marriage becomes valid in the eyes of the Vanyarin religious nuts and they can travel to Valmar this afternoon for their proper Vanyarin marriage without being arrested for unlawful sexual congress.  At least that's what I think he said.  I didn't really understand most of it, so I just made interested "huh" sorts of noises and said "Sounds good."  I think he also might have mentioned something about Aralindë having to pretend to be a virgin.  
  
Then I heard a large cheer, which I assume meant Ingwë had shown up, and Glorfindel passed the phone off to Aralindë.  I didn't have much to say to her.  I asked how the ceremony was going so far, and she said it sucked and that the Mindon was stupid because it didn't have any awnings to stand under and get out of the rain, which was ruining the fancy Vanya costume Glorfindel made her wear.  Then she started off on a tangent about how she really wants to move to Valmar, where Glorfindel claims the weather is always perfect (even though he's not been there in 7000-odd years), though she still really likes Tirion, but not Formenos because the people there are rude and ignorant, and how come it's considered racist to say you hate, say, Vanyar or Teleri, but perfectly fine to say you hate people from Formenos?  And of course she's not racist, because she's marrying a visible minority, even though the Vanyarin population in Tirion is steadily on the rise, so will they really still be a minority in another thousand years?  
  
She briefly stopped talking right then, so I took the opportunity to say, "I don't know."  Then there was an awkward pause.  Then she started talking again, about everything from lychee nuts (which are spelled "laici" instead of "lychee" in Aman, she found out) to being sort of rich vs. being incredibly rich, and everything in between.  And I mean everything.  That girl talked for at least half an hour while Glorfindel was off tying to discover Ingwë.  She only stopped when the batteries on Finarfin's mobile started running down.  I told her to remind Glorfindel that he still has not answered my latest email.  She disconnected, and I was left to sit on my bed for several minutes trying to sort out all the information and get hold of my thoughts.  
  
Of course all the excitement made me completely forget about the Orc Killing Team tryout.  I looked at the clock, saw it was nearly three, and panicked.  I pulled on the first exercise-type clothes I could find, bunched my hair into a truly awful pigtail, and went to grab my bow from the closet.  Curiously, it was missing.  I KNOW it was there because I just PUT it there specifically the other night, having fetched it from the storage locker knowing that I'd need it for today.  But still I looked everywhere else: under the desk, under the bed, between the closet and the desk, behind the door.  There are only so many places a four-foot-long bow can hide in a small college dorm room.  
  
At three I had to give up and run over to playing field eight, which is about as far from the Mindon as a person can get without actually leaving university property.  I was just in time to find out I'd missed the endurance trials.  The equipment manager allotted me a substandard fibreglass bow and told to stand at the far left with the first years.  The coach even sneered at me.  I didn't even get to take any practice shots to get used to my substandard fibreglass bow before it was my turn at the target.  
  
Now normally, I am good at archery and can hit most any target without a problem.  Today, however, with my substandard fibreglass bow, my arrow fell two metres short of the target-like straw bales.  Even the first years laughed.  My second shot fell a few inches short, and the third shot hit the white part of the paper surrounding the bull's eye.  I was easily the worst one there, so it came as no surprise when none of the thirty names called to advance to the next round of tryouts (the riding part) was my name.  I headed back to my dorm room, disgusted with myself, and changed back into clothes that didn't remind me of anything to do with teams or tryouts or physical activity of any sort.  Then I sat in front of Elrohir's door in a murderous rage and waited for him to come back from wherever he had buggered off to.  
  
Sure enough, when Elrohir came back, he was carrying my bow.  And his own.  I politely asked what the hell he thought he was doing.  Sensing nothing wrong, he casually explained that he was practising for theatre group tryouts.  I couldn't see the logic in him needing two bows for that, or even one.  He said he was trying out for the role of Gil-galad.  I still couldn't see the logic in him needing two bows for that.  He said he thought he remembered reading on the internet somewhere about Gil-galad using two bows at once.  I told him such a thing was not only impossible but also the dumbest thing I'd ever heard, smacked him on the head, and locked myself in my room.  He didn't seem to get the part about me being angry with him.  Ten minutes later, he was knocking at my door, asking if I'd seen his Floor Monitor badge.  He thought he might have left it at a party on a different floor.  
  
I can't believe I lost my place on the Orc Killing team because of Erestor's porridge pot, Glorfindel's religion, and Elrohir's sodding rock opera about Gil-galad.  What sort of idiot writes a rock opera about Gil-galad?!  And who would ever think Gil-galad could use two bows at once?  Just to make sure, I looked up all the information I could find regarding Gil-galad and the number two (some of which I could really have lived without knowing).  But the only even vaguely relevant story I could find was about Gil-galad occasionally using two spoons in order to eat stew more quickly.  
  
I can't believe I lost my place on the Orc Killing team because Gil-galad occasionally used two spoons to eat stew.  
  
January 17th  
  
Dad rang again this morning.  I think he's already lonely without Erestor.    
  
I asked him what his plans for the day were, but he had none.  I told him he should go shopping for my birthday, which is in only two weeks, since he needs to allow the postal service ample time to deliver large packages.  He asked me what I wanted, and I took that as a good sign.  It's likely he'll try to compensate for his guilt over the fight with Erestor by buying me something really spectacular, so I told him I want a DVD recorder.  He said he'd look into it.  I'm keeping hopes up.  
  
Then I asked him if Gil-galad ever tried to use two bows at the same time.  He said, "Don't be ridiculous. That's physically impossible."  I asked about the stew spoons.  Dad made an irritated sort of noise, as if recalling a frustrating memory, and said, "Oh... that he did all the time."  Then he suspiciously asked me about the sudden interest in Gil-galad and twos.  I told him it was just something to do with Elrohir.  Which, now that I think about it, likely made me sound even more suspicious.  I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea.  
  
I also told him about the Orc Killing team fiasco and how it was all Elrohir's fault.  But all he said was that it was probably for the best, since I ought to be focusing my talents on political studies.  He's probably right.  Who needs to practice killing orcs anyway?  If they ever cross my path in the future, I can always bore them to death with detailed accounts of how democracy works.  I'm sure that'll do just as well as a quick arrow to the neck.  
  
January 19th  
  
Spending time with Aerthos is getting to be a challenge.  Not because the actual spending of time with him is difficult, but because spending time alone with him has become a rare pleasure now that he has his new roommate.  
  
The new roommate is omnipresent.  No matter where we go or what we try to do, he's always there.  When we were making snacks, he was in the kitchen stocking the fridge with beer.  When we were watching a movie, he was beside the stereo organising his CD collection.  When we gave up and retreated to the privacy of Aerthos' room, he was vacuuming the carpet just outside the door.  Also, he has an irritating habit of yelling things that are either blatantly obvious ("THE TV IS ON!") or that nobody needs to know ("I GOTTA GO LAY A LOG!").  I don't know how Aerthos stands it.  
  
Therefore we have decided that all togetherness activities henceforth will be conducted at my place.  I'm fine with that; I prefer my bed to his anyway.  His blankets are inadequate and his pillows are all lumpy and old.  Also, his DVD collection seems to consist mainly of musicals and low-budget religiously-themed productions.  Which brings me to another point: half the religious paraphernalia is still prominently displayed at his house.  Should I believe him when he says his old roommate "forgot" it, or should I be suspicious that he might be a closet Valar devotee?  I think I need to ask him next time he comes over.  
  
January 21st  
  
There was no need to ask.  We went out last night to something called "7-55 Alive", which, despite its precise title, started at three minutes past eight.  It was in the Education Auditorium.  It looked promising when we first arrived, since there was a band setting up on stage and some burly-looking electricians were wiring coloured lights.  We sat down in the back row, which I thought was a good idea, because then we'd have a better chance of making out once the lights were dimmed.  But no sooner had we sat than a very white-bread-looking fellow in a suit and tie urged us to move down closer to the stage, since only losers sit at the back.  I told him we were fine where we were, thank you, but he kept pestering us to move until I got fed up and told him to piss off.  Then he looked at me as if I were Morgoth Incarnate.  I was about to ask Aerthos what was going on, but right then another boy in a suit, this one looking like he was barely out of high school, got up on stage.  An obviously pregnant girl of about the same age stood beside him, smiling brightly.  
  
The boy introduced his wife, announced they were expecting their first child in two months, and started talking about how only ten years ago he was ashamed to be open about his faith since his peers thought it was uncool.  But now he has Seen the Light, and realised that there's nothing cooler than being devoted to the Valar!  Everybody except Aerthos and I cheered, and I suspect the only reason Aerthos wasn't cheering was because I was sitting right there giving him a "what have you brought me to?!" sort of look.  The suit boy kept talking about how important it is to See the Light (everyone in the auditorium said "See the Light" with him whenever it came up), and then his wife took over.  She talked about how Elbereth gave her inspiration for her paintings, and gestured to some pictures at the side of the stage.  She does oil-paint-by number scenes from the Valaquenta.  Her plan tonight was to paint while the band played, and hope that their spiritual energy would bless her work.  
  
I turned to Aerthos with a nervous laugh and said, "Wow, this is sure crazy, isn't it?  Ha ha, what a bunch of weirdos."  He smiled and said, "Yeah, it's really lame," but the insult wasn't convincing.  Just because he wasn't lifting up his hands and saying "See the Light" along with the boy in the suit didn't mean he wasn't into the whole thing.  I asked if we could leave, but he said he wanted to stay and listen to the band for a bit.  He hastily added, "That's when it gets really wacked."  We ended up staying for five songs.  The lyrics were Power Point projected onto a screen above the stage, so we could all sing along like a big happy family.  Aerthos didn't sing or wave his arms in the air like everyone else, but I think he wanted to.  
  
We went for coffee after we left, but the situation was a bit awkward.  We talked mainly about schoolwork.  Then he went home and I went back to my room, and I was left lying awake well into the night thinking that there's a very good chance my boyfriend is one of those sketchy religious people I always make fun of.  I hope this doesn't damage our relationship.  
  
January 23rd  
  
Neither of us has said a peep about religion since Tuesday night.  I think we're trying to pretend it never happened.  I'm perfectly fine with that.  As long as he doesn't suddenly decide that gay sex is morally wrong, I don't think I'll have anything to complain about.  
  
January 24th  
  
I rang dad this morning to see how he was doing.  He sounded perky and one of his Juice Newton records was blaring in the background, so I think he was doing fine.  He had dug out the old wine-making kit Glorfindel gave him for Fiommereth one year and was getting everything cleaned up and ready for a new batch.  I asked if he and Erestor had resolved their differences yet, and he said no, Erestor was still at Lindir's and they weren't on speaking terms at work.  Then I asked if he had sent my birthday present yet, and he said yes, he took it to the post office yesterday.  I was pretty happy with both of those answers, and dad didn't have anything terribly exciting to say, so I ended the conversation on a good note and let him get back to his wine-making. Then I rang Erestor at Lindir's.  
  
Erestor was in a foul mood.  He has nowhere (or at least nowhere good) to park his car.  For the past week he had been parking between Lindir's house and the neighbours'.  Lindir has a tree right in his front yard and Erestor doesn't want to park under the tree, as it tends to drop large quantities of snow from its branches.  So the nose end of his car stuck out across the property line onto the street in front of the neighbours' house.  Now, the neighbours have two cars, and like to park them both right in front of the house.  This drives Erestor crazy, since they have a garage but don't use it.  They always park as far back as they can to prevent Erestor from nosing his car across the line in front of their house.  Therefore, to get back at them, Erestor had been leaving work early just so he could park as far in front of their house as he pleased.  
  
Two days ago, the neighbours had the city come and install a handicap parking sign in front of their house.  That means nobody without a handicap plate can park within eight metres of the sign.  They have managed to procure handicap plates, and Erestor is now prohibited from parking in front of their house on pain of a very expensive ticket.  Now he has to park under Lindir's snowy tree, which he also suspects will drop sticky leaf pods in the spring and caterpillars in the summer.  He is considering moving back to dad's just so he can reclaim his garage parking space.  I don't think dad will take Erestor back.  He is having too much fun single, being able to listen to his bad music as loud as he wants while making bad wine.  
  
Third, I rang grandma and grandpa.  Grandma wasn't available, but grandpa was.  He sounded a bit tense.  Grandma had gone out to one of her ladies' charity club parties last night and come home at two in the morning, "tight as a hoot-owl" (grandpa's words, not mine; in fact I don't think I even have any idea what that means).  He thinks she will be spending the entire day recovering in bed, which is rather unrespectable at her age.  He will be spending the entire day supervising the two neighbour boys, whom he has hired to clean the garage, sweep leaves and plums off the talan, and haul garbage to the dump.  Tomorrow he has plans to dig up the compost and get a new layer of mulch ready for spring gardening, and maybe go to Home Depot and get a proper bird bath so the chickadees quit using grandma's mirror.  
  
Finally I rang Rúmil.  He wasn't home, so I left a lewd message on his answering service.  I hope I had the right number.  
  
After the telephone conversations I went down to the cafeteria and had lunch.  Then I visited with Elrohir for a while, where by "visited" I really mean "played Nintendo", and by "played" I mean "watched".  He told me that he'd been given the lead in the rock opera.  He will be playing the role of Gil-galad.  I snarkily asked him he got to use two bows, but he said no, he only got a spear.  He gets to make it in prop class.  
  
January 25th  
  
I got my Glorfindel essay back today.  The professor gave me seven out of ten.  I think that's because I did a crappy job on the essay, but she has no idea who Glorfindel is and has no way of proving that I did a crappy job.  Then she assigned another essay.  This one has to be 12 to 15 pages long, and on the topic of innovative political strategies implemented within the last fifty years.  
  
Have any innovative political strategies been implemented within the last fifty years?  
  
January 26th  
  
My knee hurts and I don't know why.  
  
And I'm bored.  I might invite Aerthos over for a while.  I haven't left my room all day, and it's nearly six.  I'm getting sort of hungry too.  All I've eaten so far today is two packets of complimentary pretzels from Northwest Airlines that I found in my backpack.  
  
Maybe I should start on my application for convocation.  It's been sitting on my desk for a week and I've not touched it yet.  But it's asking all sorts of unreasonable questions, like how tall I am and how many people I'll be bringing to the auditorium.  
  
January 27th  
  
Aerthos did come over yesterday.  We sat around being bored together for a while, then went over to Elrohir's room where we listened to CDs and played with the Jenga set Elrohir had lifted from the common room.  Elrohir's friend Finerven from Lórien was there and we hunted down a Mirkwood representative (a girl named Eirien) to round out our World Cup Jenga tournament.  Rivendell took gold.  Elrohir is surprisingly good at Jenga.  Grey Havens came in last.  Aerthos gets too nervous under pressure.  
  
We are considering making this into a weekly event, with actual prizes.  Granted the prizes would likely be soft drink tokens, but that's better than nothing.  
  
January 28th  
  
I think I'm going to have to start working with Elrohir in Quenya again.  The last few marks I've gotten back indicate that I have the Quenya-speaking capacity of a sock.  At least when I work with Elrohir I can hitch onto his glory and absorb some of the residual greatness.  And he tends to do all the work, which is always a plus.  I'm certain the prof is about to give us another dialogue assignment on Friday, so I'd better make certain to sit beside Elrohir in class.  
  
January 30th  
  
Everybody else had the same idea as me about sitting next to Elrohir.  I think they've all caught on that he's by far the best, and before class even started he'd been asked by six different people if he'd work with them.  He ended up choosing a blonde girl in tight jeans and a skimpy top.  He has no sense of familial loyalty!  Now I am stuck working with Nova.  
  
Also, today is the deadline for handing in my convocation application.  I'd better get it done.  Surely dad and Erestor will want to come to the ceremony to look proud of me and take hours of video that nobody will ever watch because the damn thing was deadly boring the first time around?  And what about grandma and grandpa?  And I'm assuming Elrohir isn't convocating.  In fact, I don't even think he knows what degree he's trying to get.  Aerthos still has six credits to go, so I'd better get a ticket for him too.  That's six so far.  
  
I had Elrohir measure me for the height question, and he said I was 191 centimetres long.  
  
February 1st  
  
It was my birthday yesterday.  And it was Saturday.  Technically, this should have made for more fun than the proverbial barrel of monkeys.  However, I had to spend the morning driving Aralindë's parents to the sea port.  
  
Two nights ago, after I went to bed, Glorfindel rang.  He had suddenly come up with a brilliant idea, he said, and he needed my help.  I warily asked what he was up to.  He started explaining how he is on shaky terms with Aralindë's parents.  They (understandably) want to string him up for stealing their daughter, getting her pregnant, running away to a different continent, and converting her to some sketchy religion that had until recently been confined to National Geographic articles and documentaries on the Vision network and TeleValmar.  But he had a plan to win them over.  The plan involved me dressing up in my best suit, hiring a luxury sedan, and collecting them from the airport.  I would then take them out for lunch at a classy place before dropping them off at the sea port to catch their carnival cruise to Valinor.  
  
I told him to shove it.  He said he'd pay me.  I said, "How much?"  He said, "Whatever it takes."  I told him I wanted a thousand dollars, plus expenses.  He said, "Done."  
  
So, at quarter past nine yesterday morning I was at the airport dressed in my best suit, looking for Aralindë's parents.  The hired Cadillac was stuck in short-term parking.  I waited around at international arrivals gate L for twenty minutes, holding up a sign that said "Aralindë's Parents" because I couldn't remember their names.  Eventually they found me, walking over with funny looks on their faces.  Her mum asked, "Who are you?"  I told her I was a driver hired by Glorfindel to buy them lunch and take them on to the sea port.  It was mostly true, so I was able to say it seriously.  Aralindë's dad looked a bit wild-eyed when Glorfindel's name came up, but her mum perked up at the mention of lunch, so we all headed out to the Cadillac.  All six of us.  Glorfindel neglected to mention that Aralindë has three younger siblings.  
  
I had planned on taking them somewhere nice to eat, like maybe the golf course on the coast, but the three younger siblings sort of trashed that idea.  We ended up going to Chuck E Cheese's.  The youngest child played in the ball pit while the rest of us ate a charming lunch of hamburgers and pizza.  I got a ketchup spot on my shirt cuff.  I tried to keep it tucked into my coat as we drove to the sea port, but somehow it was in just the wrong spot and kept popping out.  I also tried to keep saying flattering things about Glorfindel, but in the end I'm not sure if it made any difference in their opinions or not.  I hope I still get paid either way.  And I think I should demand a bonus, because Aralindë's youngest sister was sick in the back of the Cadillac and I had to spend a quarter-hour with a bottle of chem-dry trying to get tomato sauce and bits of chewed-up bread out of the upholstery.  In hindsight, I really should've paid the extra fee for interior damage insurance.  
  
After that I went to the post office to pick up my birthday parcel from dad, but it was closed.  I hate this city.  Everything closes at 5 and is never open on weekends!  Stupid lazy Teleri.  I bet in Tirion things are open all the time.  I will ask Glorfindel about that when I telephone him to complain.  
  
Since I had it for two more days, I put the car in the underground car park at the uni.  Glorfindel is rich; he can afford it.  Then I went upstairs to officially start my birthday.  I discounted that morning portion of servitude.  I knocked on Elrohir's door and woke him up at the ridiculous hour of noon to give him his present (a Batter Master 200 that I ordered off the internet, since he seems to be overly fond of battered foods), and he dug mine out from his closet (actually it was more like the pile of clothes in front of the closet).  His comment on his present was, "Now I can make my own fish sticks!"  I opened my present while he was taking his out of the box to examine it.  He bought me four vodka coolers and a tee-shirt that says "CULT LEADER: do what I say and everyone gets hurt".  He is a good brother, really.  
  
I sat in Elrohir's room drinking vodka and playing Nintendo until five or so, when Aerthos came over.  He brought me more vodka coolers and a real paper book-type journal.  I haven't had one of those since I was little.  It should be interesting to try out, though my journal-writing skills might be a bit shoddy without spellcheck and auto-correct.  Also, it has a lock, which should keep prying noses out of my very important secret personal writings.  My computer is password protected, but I am suspicious that Elrohir knows the password, since sometimes when I log on my desktop icons have rearranged themselves or disappeared altogether.  
  
Around ten the three of us took off down to the uni pub, where everyone we met proceeded to buy me vodka coolers.  Do they think I really like vodka coolers?  I mean I'm not opposed to them in any way, but still this was a little strange.  Do they think I'm an alcoholic and that's why they were buying me so many drinks?  Or do they think I'm really boring and need to get drunk to loosen up?  I could ponder these points further, but I think I'll just count my blessings and be proud to say that I got roaringly drunk without spending a single penny.  It was great.  Then I was sick in the gents' toilets.  That part wasn't so great.  I had to borrow some change from Aerthos to buy a pack of Dentyne from the vending machine and get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.  
  
So, I am now 2911.  I wonder if dad got drunk in university pubs when he was my age?  Somehow I can't imagine it.  I think he always must've been boring.  I should ask Erestor and Glorfindel.  
  
February 11th  
  
For the past several days I've been trying to write in the book journal Aerthos gave me instead of on the computer, but it's just not the same.  I can't handwrite as fast as I can type, and by the time I get any thoughts half written down I've already forgotten what I wanted to say.  From now on, I'll keep the book on my bedside table and use it to write down any odd dreams I have.  Like the one I had the other night when my brain was running in Windows XP mode.  I think I was suffering from computer withdrawal.  
  
To get the computer journal caught up, here is a summary of what I've done the past few days:  
  
February 1st I spent mostly in bed recovering from hangover.  Elrohir brought me soup from the cafeteria and spilled it all over my desk, because he was still half drunk and couldn't walk right.  He was wearing his floor monitor badge and looking sick as a dog because he had to go to a meeting with the building supervisors to discuss new fire safety codes.  
  
February 2nd saw me falling asleep in class because my sleeping schedule was all screwed up due to having a hangover on the 1st and staying in bed all day.  Then after class I went to the post office to pick up my parcel from dad, and then returned the car to Budget (hope they won't notice the stain).  I opened the parcel upon returning to the residence, and found inside a 128 meg compact flash card for my camera, and a set of walkie-talkies for Elrohir.  I'll have to keep the DVD recorder on my list for next Fiommereth.  
  
I didn't write anything for February 3rd.  I'm not sure if that was because nothing happened, or because a bunch of wonderful things happened and I didn't have time to write.  I'm betting it's the former.  
  
February 4th I went to the library to get out a book about Vanyarin culture because Glorfindel said something dumb over the telephone and I wanted to see if he was fibbing or not.  Of course I didn't write down what he said, and I can't remember now, so I may never know.  In the meantime, I have a very boring book to read in the biff.  It has disappointingly few pictures.  
  
On February 5th I pretended I had a stomach ache to get out of running laps in P.E.   
  
Aerthos came over on the 6th and, according to my crudely-scrawled notes, we got it on.  Possibly while I was writing, if the spectacularly poor penmanship is any indication.  
  
All that's written for February 7th is, "ELLADAN TAKES A WHIZ" and "ELLADAN BRUSHES HIS DAMN TEETH".  I remember having a Jenga party in Elrohir's room that night, and drinking a substantial amount of beer, but I don't remember giving him permission to write either of those comments.  My whiz is logged at 10.09 pm, and the teeth-brushing took place at 1.44.  
  
On February 8th I did my weekly telephoning to Rivendell.  I missed last week, so I made certain to have a thorough talk with both dad and Erestor this time.  Dad complained that Erestor called round to pick up more things and take them over to Lindir's, and he ended up stealing all the cleaning supplies from the pantry.  Dad was planning on cleaning the bathrooms, but the Toilet Duck was gone so he was left with nothing to do.  Erestor reported that he had finally outsmarted the neighbours by having Lindir's dad (who lost the lower portion of his right leg in the Last Alliance) apply for a handicap sticker.  Erestor then affixed it to his car, so now he's legally entitled to park in front of the neighbours' house as long as he pleases.  I asked him if he didn't think there was something wrong with taking a handicap sticker away from a man with only one and a half legs, but he said Lindir's dad doesn't have a car anyhow, so has no use for it.  
  
Apparently I did nothing on February 9th as well.  Or at least I wrote nothing.  Actually, I'm pretty sure I did nothing.  Nothing interesting, at least.  I remember emailing Glorfindel and downloading Windows updates.  
  
Then yesterday a rabbit ran through the revolving door by the residence office and caused a big commotion.  One of the security guards eventually caught it with an overturned dustbin.  He was later interviewed by a reporter from the school paper, who also got a picture of the rabbit.  Then in a completely unrelated but similar-sounding incident, Elrohir won the Chubby Bunny contest at supper.  He fit twenty-six marshmallows in his mouth.  
  
And that brings the journal up to date.  Nothing much happened today.  I found an old brown apple core in a ziplock baggie under my desk, but that's about it for anything out of the ordinary.  I put the baggie under Elrohir's desk.  I'm sure it was his, anyway.  
  
February 12th  
  
When Aerthos came over after supper tonight he asked me what I wanted to do for Melevellar.  I hadn't thought of anything, or really even considered doing anything.  I've never had to think of anything before.  This is the first time I've had a Melevellar boyfriend.  He suggested we go to a fancy hotel for the night.  I said that would be nice, only a bit awkward.  I mean, when two people with an in-town address check into a swanky hotel for one night on February 14th, the desk staff is going to know what's going on.  I don't think I could stand them knowing.  Especially when we could do things much more privately right here.  Plus the residence is organising some sort of formal supper that night, so we wouldn't be able to get away until at least eight.  
  
He said that would be fine, since really it was the after-eight activities that were most important, and also ran off a list of special prices at the fancy harbour hotels.  We could get a night in one of the luxury suites at the West Coast Plaza, including buffet breakfast and complimentary drinks, for $349.  I said I'd think about it.  He said he was going to book it.  I didn't do much to stop him.  I think we're going to the West Coast Plaza on Saturday.  
  
My biggest worry is that I won't want to come back to my dorm room after such luxury.  
  
February 13th  
  
Aerthos can't come to the formal supper.  I went down to the residence office today to get him a ticket, and was told by a surly organiser that only Mindon residents can attend.  I pointed to the part on the advertisement that said "Couples Only", and he said that a date would be provided for me.  I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds ominous.  I'm suspicious that I'll be paired off with some single girl.  With my luck, a single First Year girl.  A single First Year foreign student from Mirkwood who wears low-rise jeans and too much eyeliner, and talks about her favourite hip hop artists on a mobile phone while drinking Coca-Cola through a heart-shaped straw.  If I hadn't already spent $12 on a ticket, I might reconsider. 


	20. The Elladan Show: 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

February 14th (Melevellar)  
  
I have lived through the Melevellar Formal Supper.  I even wore my fancy Sinda costume, and didn't spill on it.  It wasn't as bad as I was anticipating.  Actually, I was quite relieved.  Maybe my luck is turning better.  
  
My date was an engineering grad student named Angiliath.  I didn't ask why she still lived in residence, but she seemed nice enough.  Actually her real name is Miriliel, but she claims that's too girly so she renamed herself Angiliath.  I told her Angiliath suits her better, and it does.  She was wearing cargo overalls and had a tattoo of a Doriathrin battle axe on her forearm.  She was a bit owly at first and kept looking at me suspiciously, and warned me that she was a kickboxing instructor and had a girlfriend, so I shouldn't try anything funny.  After I assured her that I was only at the supper by myself because my boyfriend wasn't allowed to attend, she was much more agreeable.  We sat at a table in the back corner and made snide comments about the way others were dressed.  She didn't make any comments about my Sindarin outfit, but I'm not sure if that's because she liked it or if she was just being polite to her date.  I didn't comment on her overalls, even though they did make her look a bit like a construction worker.  She might have taken that as a compliment, though.  
  
For supper we had cream of potato soup, which was excellent, and mushroom crepes, which were so bad they made me gag.  I traded one of my crepes for Angiliath's salad.  I think her sense of taste might be non-functional, since she thought the crepes were great.  For dessert we had cherry cheesecake.  I was still hungry, even after eating all the cinnamon heart candy from the bowl at the centre of the table.  I was sort of tempted to stick around for the dance afterward, if only for the refreshment table.  They had cookies and a prawn ring.  But Aerthos said he'd be by to collect me in a taxi at eight, so I came back to my room to sit and wait for him.  
  
I have packed a small overnight bag to go to the hotel, consisting of toiletries, clothes for tomorrow, clean underpants, a pillow in case the hotel pillows are crummy, a lounging outfit to wear to breakfast, a jacket in case we sit out on the balcony tonight and it's cold, shoes to match tomorrow's clothes, slippers, and two pair of socks in case one for whatever reason gets wet.  I am not sure whether I should pack pyjamas or not, since pyjamas really shouldn't be required if we end up doing what we're going to the hotel to do.  But on the other hand, I might get cold in the middle of the night.  I ought to pack my good pyjamas just in case.  
  
February 15th  
  
The hotel experience wasn't exactly what I had in mind.  The hotel itself was fine, and  even better than the luxury room at the Delta Elrohir and I once got by accident because all other rooms were booked.  The room Aerthos and I had came with a king size canopy bed, walk-in closet, Jacuzzi tub, and a complimentary bottle of mid-range champagne.  When we first arrived we admired the bed, hung everything we could in the closet, made plans to use the Jacuzzi later, and had a glass of champagne.  Then we went down to the lounge for drinks, sitting right by the glass wall overlooking the harbour.  That part was lovely.  
  
But when we got back up to the room, things seemed a little awkward.  Everything was too perfect, and too quiet.  We lay down very carefully on the bed, above the covers and not moving.  I said, "This doesn't feel right," to which he answered, "I know.  It's like sneaking around in your grandparents' guest room."  That was exactly what it felt like.  I was afraid to move too much on the bed and wrinkle the perfect blankets.  I didn't even want to breathe too heavily in case the air current rustled the drapes.  There was a definite sense that if we started to do anything, a stern woman brandishing a rolling pin would burst through the door to shoo us away like naughty children.  We lay there for a long time being worried and staring up at the pristine tassels adorning the canopy.  
  
Finally, around eleven, Aerthos sat up and said. "I can't take it any more!"  He rang down to the front desk and asked if we could switch to a standard room with no tassels and a nylon bedspread that we wouldn't feel bad about mussing.  The fellow at the desk said it would be possible, but we couldn't be reimbursed for the difference.  Neither of us cared.  We packed up our things and headed down to the seventh floor, where all the rooms have regular queen size beds with ugly floral blankets, closets where the hangers are fastened to a bar so you can't steal them, standard shower-baths, and complimentary hotel-brand mints instead of champagne.  A large television loomed in one corner.  We sighed in relief.  
  
After that everything was fine.  We ordered a party platter of nachos, chicken fingers, onion rings and potato skins from room service and watched a bad action movie on pay-per-view.  Maybe not the romantic evening we had in mind, but fun all the same.  We'll know for next time that we're more suited to econo motels than upscale luxury suites on the harbour.  
  
February 16th  
  
Today was the first fabulous day of an entire week off school!  I think it's called "reading week" because we're supposed to get caught up on our studying, but I don't think I know anyone who actually uses the time off for school-related purposes.  I sure don't, and Elrohir doesn't even use in-school time for school-related purposes, so he's certainly not going to crack the books.  We have one Quenya assignment together that's due a week from today, but I'm sure we (that is, he) can get it done in the few hours before it's due.  
  
Aerthos suggested we go somewhere for a few days.  I'm not sure where or why, since we just went to a hotel, but he wanted to go away.   By "away" I think he meant "out of town".  I didn't agree to go, but I didn't say no either.  I said I'd see.  Which was convenient, since a few hours later Elrohir came by and asked if I wanted to go somewhere for a few days.  I asked where. He said, "The Shire."  I asked why.  He said, "Beer!"  Clearly, he just wants to go on an exotic pub crawl.  I told him I'd think about it.  
  
A beer-hall tour of the Shire probably isn't what Aerthos had in mind when he asked me if I wanted to go out of town for a few days, but I really can't let Elrohir go alone and unsupervised.  
  
February 18th  
  
I am in Hobbiton with Aerthos, Elrohir, and Gildor.  I'm not sure how, but Gildor has this annoying habit of weaselling his way into road trips.  We found him at a Super 8 just past the Tower Hills.  Elrohir invited him to sit in our hired car to get out of the rain, and that was it.  He joined the group and now we can't get rid of him.  
  
Actually, it's sort of a good thing he did join.  Gildor is the only one who knows his way around the Shire, and without him we'd have been lost forever on muddy back roads that all look about three feet wide.  The outdated road map we found in the glove compartment wasn't very useful.  We got lost and ended up at a potash mine before Gildor recognised a grain silo and got us back on the right track.  He also successfully steered our car, which seemed humorously large and out-of-place, through the narrow Hobbiton streets to the Five Ribbon Inn.  
  
Aerthos wouldn't get out of the car.  He'd seen something on the news about Hobbits ganging up on big people and chasing them out of the Shire, and was worried our presence would incite a similar incident and we'd be chased out of town by midgets bearing shotguns.  He'd also seen Aragorn proclaiming that the Shire was off limits to anyone over five feet tall.  I tried to assure him that the ban only applied to Men, not Elves, but he didn't buy it.  He made Gildor get out of the car first in case anything started.  
  
Nothing started, but the locals did sort of stare in shock.  Clearly they are not used to anything out of the ordinary, and don't like any unexpected events distracting them from everyday routine.  The Shire is like a whole country of grandpas.  From the looks they gave us, I'd guess they consider Elves rather outlandish and showy.  Elrohir's shiny purple shirt caused a sensational murmur of "Well I never!"  A little girl started crying when Gildor tried to pat her hair.  
  
Aerthos kept trying to hide behind me.  He doesn't speak any Westron, so understandably he felt a bit lost.  He just stood there and looked miserable.  He looked even worse when the innkeeper grudgingly gave us a room.  Everything is Hobbit-sized, from the height of the ceiling to the length of the beds.  We had to push two queen-sized Hobbit beds together to make one roughly double-sized Elf bed.  But then there is the problem of the blankets.  Really, we should've thought this trip through more carefully.  It is very difficult to sleep in very small beds with very small blankets.  Also, nobody bothered to look up whether the Shire ran on the same electrical current and had the same plugs as the Grey Havens.  Of course it doesn't, so I can't plug in my computer.  And Aerthos' hair dryer is completely useless.  We will have to go to bed with wet hair tonight, provided we can fit in the shower.  I'm not feeling too hopeful.  The nozzle looks about armpit-height.  
  
Of course Elrohir thinks all this is wonderful.  He thrives on impracticality.  He also sleeps curled up like a cat, so these beds are about right for him.  Right now he is down in the pub with Gildor getting loaded, much to the dismay of the locals.  I think they're ruining the homey atmosphere.  I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up tomorrow morning to find they'd been arrested.  
  
February 20th  
  
We are back in the Grey Havens.  We went to the Shire, took pictures, bought souvenirs, and came back.  That constitutes enough of a road trip for me.  I slept through most of the driving, and am much happier for it.  The Shire is nothing to write home about.  Quite literally.  I bought a postcard to send to dad and Erestor, but couldn't think of anything to say.  But we also purchased some mementos of  our trip.  I now have a Hobbiton coffee mug, Aerthos has a sticker and a photo book, and Elrohir has a tee-shirt that says "Don't pick the flowers! Flowers don't like to be picked!"  He thinks it's hilarious.  I don't get it.  
  
BUT today I get to pack!  Aerthos' roommate has moved out!  He went to his girlfriend's flat on the 13th, and isn't coming back.  Aerthos may have terrible luck with roommates, but this is good news for me.  No more tiny dorm room.  No more communal showers.  No more fluorescent lighting.  No more being forced to attend Elrohir's toga parties as a slave boy in a loincloth because I don't have an appropriate toga.  
  
I am going to move tomorrow morning.  Elrohir is going to help.  We've not quite figured out the logistics of moving yet, such as how I'm going to get all my things over to the house, but I'm sure we'll figure it out.  A taxi may be involved.  It is too far to walk to Aerthos' house at this time of year, especially when carrying boxes and bags of varying shapes.  
  
February 22nd  
  
I am back in my dorm room.  Aerthos doesn't have internet at his house.  I've been forced to come back here until Wednesday, when the Telus man promised to come by and install the DSL.  Also, Aerthos doesn't have a long-distance plan, and got a bit tense when I mentioned this morning that Sunday is my long-distance telephoning day.  He rings his parents once every two months for fear of the telephone bill.  I told him I'd pay it, and order a long-distance package, since I'm already paying for the DSL.  He didn't sound much more enthusiastic.  I think he just wants to avoid talking to his parents.  
  
I rang dad around lunch time.  He sounded depressed.  I asked what was wrong, and he said, with a sigh, "Well... I woke up at five-thirty this morning, rolled over, and Erestor wasn't there...  It just wasn't a very good start to the day."  He tried to make it better by going out for breakfast, but he was too depressed to make it all the way to the real bakery so he stopped in at Donut Time and got a dozen chocolate glazed.  He'd eaten eight so far, plus two hotdogs, a box of Kraft Dinner, and a bacon sandwich (with extra bacon).  I told him that getting fat certainly wasn't going to win Erestor back.  He told me to shut up.  Then excused himself to get an ice cream bar.  
  
Then I rang Erestor.  He was huffing a lot and sounded angry, since one of Lindir's daft children had just cut up a chicken breast in his best fry pan, shredding the Teflon.  He decided he was unable to live under the same roof as those ignorant, destructive louts, and was packing his things.  I asked where he was going.  He said he didn't rightly know.  To work, perhaps.  He could stay in his office for the night and then look for a flat in the morning.  I suggested he talk to dad, then explained the situation.  Erestor screeched, "He's eating nothing but frozen, processed, and fast foods?!"  I said yes.  Clearly, dad is in need of Erestor's high-quality cookware and proper supper-making skills.  Erestor said he had to go.  I'm fairly certain he went back to dad's, where there are no Teflon-ruining youths and he can have a safe tree-free parking space while showcasing his culinary skills.  
  
I probably should've rang dad back to warn him that Erestor was coming over so he'd have time to clean up the mess of junk foods, but I figured I'd already done my good deed for the day.  Since I am still officially opposed to their relationship, I can't help out too much.  
  
February 23rd  
  
Both Elrohir and I completely forgot about the Quenya assignment that was due today.  As a result, I think Elrohir may be booted out of his teacher's pet position.  The professor kept glaring at him all class.  I hope he re-establishes his standing soon, since I can't get a good mark in that class without him.  
  
We have to give a presentation on Wednesday now.  It seems like this class is at least four times as much work as any other.  At least in my other classes I get to do nothing all semester and then hand in one big assignment at the end.  Incidentally, the end is six weeks from now.  I really ought to start working on some of those assignments now so I'm not swamped later.  
  
February 25th  
  
Our Quenya presentation was about birds.  It was the worst thing I've ever done, and by far the worst thing Elrohir's ever done in that class.  The professor looked disgusted with our feeble effort.  Even Elrohir said he felt ashamed of himself.  I couldn't help but worry that maybe I'm dragging him down to my substandard Quenya level.  
  
I asked him after class if he wanted to keep working with me, and he said yes.  Only he said it sort of vaguely, as if he were trying to say it in a way that meant "yes" now but could easily be written off as a distracted, untruthful "yes" next week when he tells me he forgot we were supposed to be working together and has found a new partner.  I think I might have to accost him in the corridor tomorrow and get a legally binding "yes" on paper.  
  
But on the plus side, Telus came by this afternoon to hook up my internet, meaning I could officially move in with Aerthos.  We celebrated by having Taco Time and watching a video, but I managed to sneak fifteen minutes of email while he was in the shower.  
  
February 26th  
  
Went grocery shopping with Aerthos today, since all he had to eat at the house was rice cakes, potatoes, Ritz Bitz left over from his last roommate, Appletreet cups, and some weird things in jars.  Half the things I put in the cart he took out, saying we didn't need luxury items.  After ten minutes I lost my temper in the middle of the preserved vegetable aisle and shouted at him that pickles are not a luxury.  Then I stormed off to get my own cart.  We are on separate food bills from now on.  If he wants to live on rice and pasta, that's his own choice.  
  
We had separate suppers as well.  I made stir fry.  He made instant mashed potatoes.  I offered to share, but he wasn't speaking to me, apart from the word "no".  
  
February 27th  
  
Due to the supermarket row, I stayed in my own room at the house for the first time last night.  It was a bit odd.  I never noticed before how loud the furnace is, or how the street light outside seems to have been carefully placed for maximum annoyance by shining right in my window all night.  I'm not sure if it was because of these things or because of troubles with Aerthos, but I didn't get much sleep.  Then, in a scenario eerily similar to what dad described on the phone the other day, I woke up shortly after five, saw Aerthos wasn't in bed with me, and was overcome with an acute feeling of loneliness.  I couldn't get back to sleep after that.  I eventually had to give up, deciding to watch television for a while until it was time for class.  
  
Aerthos was already up, sitting on the sofa, watching educational Quenya children's programming.  He refuses to get cable, so that was about the only thing on, apart from news.  I wordlessly sat down next to him and we watched in silence.  
  
Halfway through the show about a man in a dog suit with superhero alphabet powers, he randomly said, "Sorry."  I said, "Me too."  Then he leaned over onto my shoulder, and we spent the next seven hours curled up together, alternately sleeping and cuddling.  I ended up missing class, but that didn't seem very important.  
  
For supper I made spicy baked chicken, he made cream of mushroom soup, and we shared both.  The flavours clashed horribly but neither of us really minded.  
  
February 29th  
  
A reporter from the school paper showed up to cover Elrohir's World Cup Jenga tournament last night.  Elrohir won the gold medal: a Corona bottle cap glued to a McDonald's shoe lace, which he made in props class.  He really is good at Jenga.  Too bad it, like most of his other talents, is completely useless when it comes to any real-world application.  
  
He came over for lunch today, claiming it was because he was bored at the residence, but I think it's because cabbage rolls were on the cafeteria menu.  He helped make pork chop stew.  Then he stayed, and stayed, and stayed, until finally at seven Aerthos asked him if he didn't have anyplace else to be.  He said no, he'd rather stay here with us and watch television.  So he grabbed my pillow and duvet, got as many snacks as he could carry, and snuggled down on the sofa to watch the entirety of Sunday night programming on channel five.  Aerthos and I had been planning on snuggling on the sofa ourselves, but Elrohir took up too much room.  
  
I tried to explain to Aerthos, who has been a bit cool toward Elrohir ever since the whole Shire incident, that he is like a pet that needs lots of attention, and the majority of that attention usually comes from me.  Most of the time it's adequate if somebody's just in the same room as him, especially if they're watching him play Nintendo.  He doesn't do well on his own.  But Elrohir's well-being isn't too much of a concern in Aerthos' mind.  He said that either Elrohir goes or he does.  So I tried to get rid of Elrohir, but he had already fallen asleep in a pile of biscuit boxes and pudding cups.  I couldn't bring myself to wake him.  
  
Aerthos left in a rather bad mood.  I don't know where he went, and he hasn't come back yet.  I hope he's alright.  He forgot his wallet on the kitchen table.  
  
March 1st  
  
Elrohir stayed over last night.  He woke up around midnight, at which time we decided it would be fun if we got drunk on some really bad rum we found at the back of the pantry and stayed up half the night playing Magic cards.  Aerthos came home around four in the morning, also very drunk.  He cried and apologised and told Elrohir how much he loved him, then we all fell asleep on the living room floor in a pile of Magic cards.  I accidentally rolled over onto Elrohir's graveyard, bending his Force of Nature and a Hungry Mist.  I hid them in the middle of his deck.  I hope he doesn't notice.  
  
Naturally, Elrohir and I were both far too sick to go to Quenya this morning.  I wonder if he is the bad influence on me, or if I am a bad influence on him?  
  
March 4th  
  
Elrohir has decided to move in.  He doesn't like being at the residence by himself, floor monitor or not.  He now resides in our spare room in the basement, though he spends most of his time on the sofa in the living room.  Aerthos has been very good about it and hasn't complained once.  He even tolerates Elrohir's habit of watching telly in nothing but his bright yellow underpants.  Though sometimes I wish he wouldn't tolerate it quite so avidly.  And Elrohir should learn to cover up.  He is unwittingly leading my boyfriend astray (at least I hope it's unwittingly).  
  
March 5th  
  
Props class has been getting a bit out of hand ever since our professor realised the rock opera starts performing in two weeks and we only have a handful of props made.  And that's a literal handful- we've made a sack of coins.  Today Elrohir and I worked together on a papier maché surf board.  Somebody else was assembling an old-timey microphone, and a large group in the corner was making a car out of poster board and tinfoil.  I still have no idea what this rock opera is about, and Elrohir refuses to tell me, but he says I can come watch rehearsal tomorrow.  
  
March 6th  
  
I still don't know what the rock opera is about, and I've seen it now.  I think it might have had a plot, but I wasn't paying close enough attention to the lyrics to figure it out.  So to me it just seemed like a big jumble of songs performed by people wearing costumes, pretending to be other people.  Elrohir was wearing a surf shirt, so I knew he was Gil-galad.  I think the dude in tight jeans was supposed to be dad and the one in the slick suit was supposed to be Sauron.  It's anyone's guess who the rest of them were.  This really seems like something that requires a programme and song listing to understand.  
  
It started off with an early-Second-Age-type band singing a memorial surf song about Gil-galad.  But then Gil-galad (Elrohir) was on stage and the backdrop sort of looked like a beach and he was holding a piece of cardboard that I think was standing in for the surf board he and I aren't done making yet.  He and his surfer friends sang a surfing song, then the friends left and he sang a sadder song that I think was about spears.  And maybe Fingolfin, since I remember that name coming up in one of the verses.  After this somebody in lots of black leather performed a number that included lots of fake smoke, and Gil-galad ended up on top of a platform surrounded by strobe lights.  Then the fellow in tight jeans started singing.  A choir came onto the stage.  More fake smoke appeared.  Then everything went black and Gil-galad sang a sad type of song by himself, at the end of which he and tight jeans Elrond were looking a bit too friendly.  
  
This part I was almost able to follow.  But then everyone cleared off and a girl came and sang one flirty song to the actor I thought was being dad.  She didn't appear again until the middle of the second act.  After her song was more sentimental stuff from Gil-galad.  Then suddenly Sauron appeared out of nowhere and sang about being back in Middle-earth.  That was the finale to act one.  I don't remember the opening for act two, or even the first few songs, since I fell asleep while the director was giving notes for act one and didn't wake up until halfway through the flirty girl's second-act song.  After that I was too lost to pay much attention, so I did some Quenya homework until the grand finale.  And I only watched that because it was performed by the black leather guy from act one, and he was sort of interesting.  
  
When it was over I had to lie and tell Elrohir it was really good.  He talked about being Gil-galad all the way back to the house, and twice mentioned his drinking buddy, "the dude who plays Erestor".  Which one was supposed to be Erestor?  
  
March 7th  
  
Did no homework today.  I probably should've started something, since I have a major essay due in two weeks (WHERE DO THESE THINGS COME FROM?!!!), but instead Aerthos and Elrohir and I went to McDonald's.  I ordered a Big Mac.  Aerthos ordered a chicken burger.  Elrohir ordered McNuggets and a free sundae.  I'm not sure how he gets away with it, but they gave him a free sundae, no questions asked.  
  
Dad phoned when we got home.  He sounded slightly distant, as if upset because I didn't ring him this morning.  As if to punish me for being so thoughtless, he asked to speak to Elrohir.  He never asks to speak to Elrohir!  
  
After he hung up, Elrohir announced that dad and Erestor have decided to come to the Grey Havens to see his performance in the rock opera.  They will be flying in late on the 18th and will be staying at a hotel.  Elrohir says that dad claims this is because he knows there won't be room at our house, but I'm sure they only want to be alone and indecent together.  
  
I asked if dad had said anything about coming for my convocation, but Elrohir said no, he hadn't mentioned it.  
  
March 10th  
  
Classes these days just aren't worth mentioning, but yesterday turned suddenly excellent when I got home that afternoon and found a cheque from Glorfindel in the post box, for $1,260!  I celebrated by ordering Nandorin takeaway, with extra fortune cookies.  Then Aerthos and I walked over to the uni pub with Elrohir and some of his friends for Karaoke Tuesday, and we all got pleasantly loaded.  If I remember correctly (and I'm not sure I do), I drank two peach coolers, two rum and Cokes, a bottle of cranberry stuff, and half a pitcher of beer.  I don't even like beer, but by the time it came around I was on a roll and didn't really care either way.  Aerthos got up on stage and did a creative rendition of "Wild Thing".  Then Elrohir and I sang "If I Had A Million Dollars", but Elrohir spent half the song just yelling into the microphone.  
  
At half two, when the bar closed, we took a taxi home.  One of the posh taxis, too, with all-leather interior.  I'm pretty sure the driver muttered something unmentionable under his breath when we drunkenly told him we only needed to go three blocks.  
  
March 11th  
  
Aerthos is starting to bug me again.  I'm not sure exactly why or how, but I find myself getting cross with him very easily these days, and wishing he would leave me alone.  It's nothing major, really, but the little things that I find so irritating.  Like how he walks into the bathroom to brush his teeth while I'm peeing, without so much as an "excuse me".  Or how he says Erestorish things like "Don't say no if you'd rather not" and uses inappropriate adjectives like "fagulous".  Or how his CD collection is predominantly soundtracks to musicals.  Or how he constantly sings "I Could Have Danced All Night" (though he replaces "danced" with a different, slightly less innocent verb).  It's enough to make me want to kick him in the pants.  
  
I would talk to Elrohir about this and ask for his opinion as to what I should do, but I know already what his answer will be.  Elrohir is always strongly in favour of a good pants-kicking.  
  
March 13th  
  
I tried to spend today avoiding Aerthos as much as possible, but it's a bit difficult when living in the same small house.  He kept asking me if something was wrong, and no matter how many times I told him I just had an upset stomach from eating a tainted egg at breakfast, he kept hanging around.  Nobody ever believes my tainted egg excuse!  
  
He offered to make me an egg-free lunch and supper, but for some reason that just made me even more annoyed.  I think the real problem is that he tries too hard.  I was much happier with Erestor, who never paid any attention to me, because at least then I had something legitimate to complain about.  I have come to the conclusion that I'm not happy unless I have a good source of complaint.  
  
March 14th  
  
Rang dad this morning, if only so that I could say I'd done it.  He wasn't doing anything, so it was a very boring conversation.  He told me that it must be snake mating season, since Aragorn's old pet corn snake keeps trying to escape from its terrarium.  Erestor found it slithering around near the base of the dishwasher yesterday and dropped a whole stack of glass bowls in fright.  Dad is looking into having the snake shipped down to Gondor.  
  
Still not getting along with Aerthos.  Spent the afternoon doing laundry.  How come my socks keep going missing?!  
  
March 15th  
  
I ran into Angiliath at the sandwich shop today while I was eating my (untainted) egg salad on brown.  She was carrying a very full tray and complaining loudly that young, insignificant students were taking up all the room by putting their backpacks and binders on seats.  I invited her to sit with me, after I moved my backpack off the adjacent chair.  Looking at her tray of stir fry, chicken fingers, pizza, chocolate milk, and coffee, I asked if her girlfriend would be joining her.  She scowled and said no, it was all for her.  And she ate it.  For a girl, she can sure eat.  
  
She asked how my boyfriend was, and I told her the truth.  She was very understanding and sympathetic, saying her girlfriend (whose name is Merenel) can get very clingy and annoying at times (though after seventeen years, she's used to it).  She suggested I write to the Students' Union advice column advertised in the paper.  They might be able to offer a unique perspective, or at least an insulting reply.  I said I'd have a go at it, since really anybody's advice is helpful at this point.  Then she gave me her email address with instructions to write at least once before end of semester so we can meet for coffee or pizza or something.  
  
When I got home, I wrote a letter to the advice columnist, Uncle Thelion, who I'm sure is much closer to a geeky computer science major than somebody's actual uncle.  
_ _ _ _ _  
  
To: thelion@mail.ghu.edu  
Subject: Advice on boyfriend  
  
Dear Uncle Thelion,  
  
I have been in a semi-successful relationship for  
the past four and a half months now, which (by my  
standards) is a significantly long time.  My  
boyfriend and I have been happy enough, and I'm  
sure he's a wonderful person, but lately I've  
started to feel as if everything he does irritates  
me.  We live together, so I have ample time every  
day to be irritated.  
  
It's not anything dramatic he does that annoys me.  
Just consistent little things, like grabbing my  
bum whenever I stand with my back to him, or eating  
chips off my lunch plate without asking.  And he  
has appalling grammar, saying things like "I seen"  
and sticking apostrophes where apostrophes just  
don't belong, even though I always point out how  
annoying I find that.  
  
What can I do?  I don't really want to end things  
with him, but sometimes I feel as if I have no  
choice.  Do you have any ideas how I should go  
about breaking things up in a friendly way?  Or  
how to better cope with his irksome tendencies?  
The only time I find I can really stand him is when  
we're having sex, but that might just be because  
it's sort of difficult to think of anything else  
right then.  
  
Thank you in advance,  
Frustrated  
_ _ _ _ _  
  
Overall, I am quite pleased with the content of the letter.  It gets my point across while also sounding convincingly contrived, so no-one will suspect me in case the paper decides to publish it.  
  
March 16th  
  
As I was doing very badly at pinball at two in the morning, trying to avoid actually going to bed, Uncle Thelion emailed me back.  I knew he was a computer geek!  Only complete losers are checking their email at that time.  
_ _ _ _ _  
  
From: thelion@mail.ghu.edu  
Subject: Re: Advice on boyfriend  
  
Dear whiner-  
  
Lemme get this straight.  You have a live-in  
boyfriend, you have the opportunity to get  
laid every night, and you think you have  
something to complain about?  Maybe you should  
get your head out of your arse so you can take  
a good look around at everything you should be  
thankful for.  So what if he needs to take  
remedial Sindarin?  As long as he's good in bed,  
what else do you need?  
  
Now quit your moaning.  It's making all us sad,  
pathetic singles even more depressed than usual.  
_ _ _ _ _  
  
I think he might have a point.  
  
March 17th  
  
I actually did a bit of schoolwork today.  Though this really wasn't a choice.  I accidentally locked my keys in the house, and since Aerthos was in a night class and Elrohir had rehearsal, I had to sit around in the library until Aerthos' class was over and he could let me in.  I made use of my library time by reading up on the evolution of government in Mirkwood.  I may write my essay on this topic, since I took that whole Mirkwood class last semester and have already learned more about Oropher's struggle for independence than any Elf really needs to know.  I bet all this stuff about Oropher would be exciting in a movie, but textbook accounts of his politics are duller than mud.  Only a book found in the university library could make wars against orcs and dragons about as interesting as demographic expansion theory.  
  
March 19th  
  
Dad and Erestor aren't here.  We even hired a car to go to the airport to meet them last night, but they weren't on the plane.  They weren't on the next plane either.  It wasn't until we got back home that we learned, by way of a message on our phone, that an accident had befallen Erestor earlier in the day and he is now incapable of plane travel.  Actually, he is now incapable of sitting down or lying on his back.  Yesterday morning, while making his breakfast, the handle broke off the pot and he spilled boiling porridge all over the kitchen floor.  He then slipped in the mess and fell flat on his bum, which was scalded by the hot porridge.  The message on the phone also reported that he hollered and ran into a cold shower as fast as he could, with all his clothes on.  Elrohir is devastated, not because Erestor has a scalded bum, but because he and dad won't be coming to watch the rock opera.  He thinks it was very selfish of Erestor not to have waited until after the trip to have injured himself.  
  
But we ended up collecting somebody from the airport, even if it wasn't dad and Erestor.  As we were grumbling and heading back out to the car park, we came up to the information desk and heard a very loud voice with a mincing Lothlórien accent, alternately whining to the clerk for mercy and hollering threats.  "But I don't HAAAAVE $580!  If you just let me talk to the pilot...  You can trust me!  My brother is a customs agent!  I resent being treated like this!  I already TOLD you, I was ABANDONED here!  No, I don't have a ticket!  Who is the manager around here?  Well, I don't like your tone of voice either!"  
  
We rounded the corner and there was Rúmil, looking lost and bedraggled.  He was wearing a ratty fur coat and didn't have any shoes.  It looked like he'd been at the airport for some time and had been crying on and off.  I blinked and said, "Rúmil?"  Rúmil stared at me as if I were his personal saviour and cried, "ELLADANOHTHANKTHESTARSYOU'VECOMETOSAVEME!!!"  Then he flung his arms around my neck and hung on like his life depended on it, which it very well might've.  He smelled of B.O. and was trying to cover it up with strongly scented gum, but it wasn't working.  
  
We had really no choice but to put him in the car and take him home, since we really couldn't leave him at the airport.  He said he'd been there three days without a shower or change of clothes.  I believe it.  Aerthos kept trying to ask him what on Earth he'd been doing at the airport for three days, but he started sobbing uncontrollably whenever the subject came up, so eventually the matter was dropped.  We drove him home, gave him some pyjamas to wear, and showed him to the shower.  He started crying again when I said none of us had any special face cream and he'd be forced to use our cheap hand lotion.  He said its harsh chemical ingredients stung his tear-reddened cheeks, though he needed moisturising so he'd just have to suffer through it, like he suffered through everything else in life.  
  
I didn't bother to ask him what he meant by that, because he was already exceptionally teary and I didn't want him to drown in his own sorrow.  I just gave him what I hope was a sympathetic smile.  Then I put some clean sheets on my bed and told him he could spend the night there while I shared with Aerthos.  For some reason that made him start crying even harder than ever.  I opted to leave him alone after that and not say anything further.  
  
He spent all of today in my bed, crying, and didn't eat anything, which was fine by me since we've not bought groceries in a week and there really isn't much around to eat.  I felt like a poor friend for leaving him to go to class, but his wailing is starting to get on my nerves so it was probably for the best.  He still hasn't said what happened.  I tried all evening to get him to talk about it, even missing the opening night of Elrohir's rock opera (which made Elrohir mad at me), but to no avail.  
  
March 20th  
  
From his noncommittal mumblings, I have managed to work out that Rúmil was dumped by his boyfriend.  Why he was stranded at the Grey Havens airport with no change of clothes and no shoes, however, is still a complete mystery.  
  
I still have not seen the rock opera.  Elrohir is being polite but distant.  
  
March 21st  
  
After taking many herbal relaxation supplements and soaking in the tub for two hours with some aromatherapy oil I found under the sink, Rúmil was finally ready to tell me his sad story.  
  
Just as I suspected, Ardlor dumped him (though Rúmil didn't say he was "dumped", he said "cruelly used and tossed aside without a thought for care or compassion").  Up until two weeks ago they were living in Rivendell, Ardlor working on his movie and Rúmil selling cosmetics at the mall, when Ardlor announced he'd met somebody else.  The somebody turned out to be Mr. Mistoffelees from the international touring company of Cats, who, according to Rúmil, is "very short and unnaturally flexible".  Ardlor and Mr. Mistoffelees were running off to Tol Eressëa together, so Rúmil used nearly every last cent in his bank account to get a one-way ticket to the Grey Havens and win his lover back before he was gone forever.  He missed their flight by four hours.  Not only that, but his luggage went missing, he left his shoes on the plane, and he had no money to get back to Rivendell or Lothlórien or even find a hotel for the night.  That was on the 15th.  He'd already stayed two nights in the airport when we found him.  
  
I asked what he planned to do now, and he said he didn't know.  Eventually go back to Lothlórien, probably, and throw himself upon the mercy of Haldir or Orophin and hope one of them has a spare sofa where he can sleep.  I asked him if he needed me to lend him the money for a bus ticket, but he said no, tomorrow he was going to borrow some of my clothes and head downtown to try to get a job selling cosmetics at a mall here.  He could work for his one-way bus ticket and return to his family in shame entirely by his own means.  He still had his dignity.  
  
It was funny to hear the word "dignity" being spoken by someone who, ten minutes ago, was asking if I had any old underwear he could borrow.  
  
I hope he gets a job soon.  There's just something inherently sad about someone who can't even afford to buy his own underwear.  
  
March 22nd  
  
I remember, some time ago, asking myself what kind of idiot would write a rock opera about Gil-galad.  I now know.  
  
Elrohir's rock opera was written by dad.  He wrote it in the early Third Age.  It was never technically published, but he sent the finished music to Círdan, which is, I guess, how it ended up in the GHU fine arts library.  I don't think he ever intended it to be performed.  It was more or less one big trippy tribute to his former lover.  With laser lights and a smoke machine.  Gil-galad probably would've liked it.  He looks like the type who would be into cheesy old music.  
  
Elrohir really was pretty good.  He even made Rúmil cry during the soppy bits (though really that's not much of a feat, given Rúmil's dubious emotional state).  I brought him cookies after the show, since I knew he'd appreciate those more than flowers.  He arranged them into a flowerish shape on the makeup counter, then ate the whole flower while Rúmil helped him remove his stage makeup.  Then he signed my and Aerthos' programmes with lipstick, instructing us to keep them safe for when he's really famous.  I pointed out that, being his twin, I could get his autograph any time, including when he's really famous, but still he insisted on putting my programme in a ziplock freezer baggie for safekeeping.  
  
When we got home I rang dad, even though it was three in the morning there.  I said, "Happy birthday!" having just then remembered that it was his and Erestor's birthday today.  He groaned sleepily and said, "My birthday ended three hours ago."  I told him I saw his rock opera, and Elrohir was an excellent Gil-galad, but didn't he think that was a bit creepy?  He said he hadn't thought of that, and yawned very loudly.  I told him I hadn't sent his birthday present yet, since I thought he'd be here to pick it up, and he mumbled that he didn't mind.  Then he asked if I could ring back tomorrow because Erestor was starting to hiss at him menacingly to get off the damn phone.  
  
Dad wrote a rock opera.  I never expected anything like this.  He just seems too boring.  But I guess he went through some kind of artistic phase before he and mum got married.  And he wrote a rock opera about Gil-galad.  
  
Now I don't know whether I should be impressed or deeply, deeply embarrassed.


	21. The Elladan Show: 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

March 23rd  
  
When I got home from class today Rúmil wasn't home, but there was a message for him on the phone from the Grey Havens Airport Authority.  His suitcase, it seems, is in Valmar.  Nobody knows how it got there.  Nobody knows exactly how or when it will be coming back.  Apparently the airport in Valmar is investigating its appearance under suspicious circumstances.  When I relayed this information to Rúmil, he was mortified at the prospect of having his intimate articles examined by Vanyarin customs agents.  He seems to be the kind of person who would have a wide assortment of embarrassing paraphernalia in his luggage.  Paraphernalia which, if cultural television programmes are any indication, Vanyarin customs agents would not appreciate.  He admitted to having packed with the idea of winning his boyfriend back in mind.  
  
I rang Glorfindel on Finarfin's mobile to see if he could help get this sorted out, and was surprised to learn he's back in Tirion.  "I thought you moved to Valmar," I said.  "I did," he replied curtly, in voice that clearly said "I don't want to talk about this."  Naturally, I had to press the subject and asked, "Why'd you move back to Tirion?"  
  
"It was more convenient," he said in the same tone of voice.  "Convenient how?" I asked.  He sighed and said, "We found Valmar isn't the right place to live at the moment."  "Howso?"  He made a frustrated sound and must've realised about then that I wasn't going to give up, because he launched into a rather lengthy explanation of how, in Valmar, there had been some small to-do about Aralindë refusing to wear a veil that covers her hair, which, Glorfindel pointed out, not all metropolitan Vanyarin women do nowadays anyhow.  He refused to force her to do so, and Ingwë told him that having an unruly and disruptive wife would damage him politically.  He told Ingwë to do something unpleasant while going someplace that isn't typically mentioned in civil conversation.  Then he and Aralindë quickly fled back to Tirion.  "We are political exiles," he said, "so it shouldn't be too difficult for you to see why I can't exactly go rushing back there to claim a suitcase full of dildos."  
  
I asked him if he knew anybody who would be willing to claim such a dubious suitcase in Valmar.  He asked exactly what was in the suitcase.  I put it on speakerphone and Rúmil told him, "Mostly wigs, platform shoes, a few sequinned frocks, a large case of cosmetics, some really expensive underwear- make sure that's all still in there, I don't want it stolen!- my hair products, then the usual things like a vibrator and a couple leather harnesses and stuff."  Glorfindel muttered, "Right, the usual..." then said, "But with all the frocks and shoes, it could theoretically be a woman's suitcase?"  Rúmil said, "Erm... a very... high-end woman.  Maybe a dominatrix?"  "Ah," said Glorfindel; "too bad your grandmother isn't here, Elladan, she'd be perfect for this job."  
  
In the end, Glorfindel said he'd see what he could do, but Rúmil didn't look very hopeful.  He sat down at the kitchen table and sighed a silent goodbye to all his lacy underthings and enormous wigs.  I was glad to be able to leave him to be depressed by himself; I had schoolwork to do.  
  
March 24th  
  
I have to present a monologue in Quenya.  I think I am going to die.  I have to write, memorise, and perform a five-minute piece in front of the class on April 5th.  How is this fair?  I don't think this is fair.  We should at least be able to work in pairs.  I could do a five-minute performance with Elrohir.  But by myself?  That's just madness.  
  
I think everyone else in the class feels the same way.  They all cringed and looked worried when the professor announced the assignment.  The subject is: "What I plan to do in the future".  I think that means, "What lousy job do I think I'll be stuck doing for the rest of my life".  So not only do I have to write a crappy Quenya performance for myself, I have to write about being the worst Elven leader in the history of the world since Fëanor.  Great!  Hopefully I can anticipate that my rule will be just dreadfully boring until I move to Valinor, as opposed to full of murder and chaos and culminating in an abrupt death-by-balrog.  Though really, it would make for a more exciting performance if I were killed by a balrog.  I could wear a costume.  Or maybe Elrohir could wear a costume and be the balrog.  He'd like that.  The professor did say other people could be part of the performance, so long as they didn't speak.  I wonder if roaring counts as speaking.  
  
No further word on Rúmil's suitcase.  
  
March 26th  
  
Next week is the last full week of school.  In that time, I need to:  
*Finish my essay about Oropher  
*Work on another essay for my directed study  
*Prepare for my Quenya presentation  
*Make a replica of some historic weapon  
*Run twenty laps around the gym, do forty pushups and forty situps, pass a flexibility test, and write an exam on badminton rules.  
  
I am not worried about any of the P.E., since I know all the badminton rules and the only way to study for the other stuff is by doing it, and that's what we do in class time.  I have started my historic weapon replica already (I am making Ringil, Fingolfin's sword, out of cardboard and fun foam).  I'm more or less done taking notes for the Oropher essay, so all I have left to do on that is put it all together coherently.  And my Quenya presentation... well... I'll just work on that a bit every day.  Or maybe ask Elrohir if he'll do it for me if I make him a whole bowl of cookie dough to eat.  
  
The one I'm unsure about is the essay for my directed study.  It can be about anything remotely related to modern leadership.  Actually, it doesn't even have to be an essay.  It has to be a "project".  But since I have never been good at projects, being more a literary type than a creative type, I might just stick with the essay.  I also think I should go see the professor this week.  We've only had four meetings together all term.  I hope that doesn't mean I'm failing.  
  
March 27th  
  
Aerthos, Elrohir and I had a catching-up-on-schoolwork day today.  Rúmil sat in the basement and sullenly watched videos on the tiny television while we did.  Elrohir was very enthusiastic about agreeing to be my balrog, and will be asking the theatre department on Monday if he can borrow a balrog costume.  He asked me if I wanted to be myself for his presentation, and since I figured it was only fair, I said yes.  Also, it would look a bit foolish if he had somebody else playing me.  
  
Nobody had any ideas as to what I should do for my directed study project.  Actually Elrohir thought I should make a diorama, but I dismissed that immediately.   A Popsicle-stick model of Gondolin might be adequate for elementary school, but not final-year university.  
  
After supper I rang dad.  He said that Erestor's still had trouble sitting down and that ointment had to be applied to the blisters on his bum on a daily basis.  There was nothing else to report.  It must've been a slow news day in Rivendell.  After I hung up, I remembered I still haven't sent either of them a birthday present.  
  
March 29th  
  
Spent all of Quenya class working on my monologue.  Elrohir helped.  We were able to work very well together, since our projects are so similar.  Mine is about taking over leadership of Rivendell and being eventually killed by a balrog, and his is about helping me take over leadership of Rivendell and facilitating my inevitable death by balrog.  It's all very harmonious.  He thinks I should aim for being High King of the Noldor, though, and his project has a definite "help Elladan become High King" theme to it.  I'm not entirely sure if I approve of that.  High King sounds like a lot of work.  Though if I were King, I would be able to do whatever I wanted.  In theory.  
  
March 30th  
  
I still have not come up with any essay or project to do for my directed study.  I wanted to get going on that today, but Rúmil insisted he was going to make us supper and he needed me to go to the supermarket with him to buy food.  He still has no money.  
  
Rúmil is making us authentic Nandorin food.  He claims to be half Nandorin or something, which I don't think is true, since Haldir is constantly making racial slurs about the Nandor (and not in an affectionate way).  But Rúmil is a pretty good ethnic cook, Nandorin or not.  I think he's making something with noodles and prawns and about fifty spices.  There are bits of ginger all over the counter.  
  
March 31st  
  
Had leftover coconut noodle something for breakfast.  I'm going to suggest to Rúmil that he cook more often.  Really it's the least he can do, since he's living here for free and continuously borrowing my clothes.  
  
Worked all class on my Quenya monologue with Elrohir, but still haven't even managed to finish half of it.  I perform on Friday.  I'm not finished my fun foam sword either, or my Oropher essay, and I haven't even thought of a topic for my directed study yet.  School is over in five days.  You think I would've learned by now.  
  
April 2nd  
  
I finished writing my Quenya presentation half an hour before class.  Actually Elrohir finished writing it.  I was dictating to him, and he translated into Quenya as he typed.  That worked out much better than me actually having to think in Quenya.  
  
I offered to present first, since otherwise I'd have sat through the entire hour dreading my turn.  At least this way I got it over with and out of the way as soon as possible.  I read my boring speech, and Elrohir the Balrog did zany things in the background, causing the class to laugh and (hopefully) not notice how boring I was.  At the end, he leapt off a chair and tackled me to the lino tiles, getting my fancy Noldo costume all dusty and bending my tinfoil circlet.  Then the class had a few minutes to ask me questions, during which time Elrohir changed from his Balrog costume into his own Noldo outfit for his presentation.  Unfortunately most of the questions the class had wanted to ask me were aimed at the Balrog, so it was a very awkward three minutes while we waited in silence for Elrohir to return.  
  
Elrohir's project made my life sound way more exciting that it will ever likely be.  With his talents, he should really look into becoming a car salesman or real estate agent.  I just stood there throughout, following his cues to look busy, pose heroically, struggle with empty balrog costume, die, and so on.  Everyone cheered when he was done.  When we were excused to change out of our Noldorin costumes and into regular clothes, I took as long as possible.  I wasn't too keen on going back and listening to forty-five more minutes of Quenya, and rightly so.  When I returned and took my seat, a girl who was so nervous she looked ready to cry was reading about the virtues of reusable cloth nappies in her housewife monologue.  
  
After Quenya, I went directly home to work on the rest of my assignments.  I still don't have a topic for my directed studies project.  
  
April 3rd  
  
Oropher essay finished.  One less worry.  I rang Thranduil to check on a few points, but I forgot the time difference and accidentally woke him up when it was three in the morning in Mirkwood.  I hung up straight away when I realised what I was doing.  I hope he doesn't have number display.  Because I didn't talk to Thranduil I was forced to make up a few things, but I'm sure the prof won't notice.  
  
April 4th  
  
In a surge of panic this afternoon, I decided the only thing I could do for my directed studies project (which is due tomorrow) is gather up all my old term papers, jumble relevant bits of them together, find some random images, and bung it all together into a website.  After eight hours of doing this, I am starting to think that recycling schoolwork is far more difficult than just producing something new.  And it doesn't help that I suck at HTML.  
  
April 5th  
  
Last day of classes.  Ever.  Except for exams, but those don't count, since I'm not there to learn anything.  I finished my website project at eleven this morning (after going to bed at two and getting up at seven), burned it onto a CD, and headed for class.  I handed it to the prof and said, "Here's my final assignment."  She said, "Oh, thanks."  And that was that.  I had an hour to spare before Quenya, so I went and slid my Oropher essay under the Poli Sci prof's door.  Then I still had forty-five minutes, so I went to the props lab and worked on my foam Ringil.  I have until the 16th to finish it, which is fortunate, since right now it looks nothing like Ringil and an awful lot like a crappy fake sword made of fun foam.  The lab instructor suggested I try putting shoe polish on it.  I might do that.  
  
There was nothing to do in Quenya except sit through the remaining class presentations.  I listened to a girl who wanted to be a child speech pathologist, a girl who wanted to be an interior designer, a boy who wanted to do something with computers (he wasn't sure exactly what), a girl who was going to set up government programs for impoverished children in Valmar, and two boys who had planned on joining the army but, now that the war's over, decided to start a dog food company together instead.  I tried my best not to fall asleep during any of it, but I was so tired I'm sure I nodded off more than once.  Elrohir had to poke me a few times.  
  
There were ten minutes left at the end of class, so, after the prof announced that we all had to come back on either Wednesday or Friday for our oral tests, we sang songs.  Elrohir sang loudly and looked upset.  I think he's going to miss this class.  I sang quietly and watched the clock.  I am not going to miss this class.  
  
As we walked back home, all the corridors in every building were full of people crying and hugging and partying.  We stopped by the residence to see what was going on, but apart from the engineering students and the agriculture students teaming up to precisely measure and cut bales of hay to perfectly fill commerce lounge from floor to ceiling, nothing very interesting was happening.  We did see the education students setting up a cabaret in the Uni Centre Multipurpose Room, though, so we bought tickets.  It's an "Old Skool" theme cabaret, which means dressing up like mid-Third Age rappers.  I think I might just wear my jeans and let Elrohir do the rapper thing.  
  
Aerthos wasn't home when we arrived, but Rúmil was.  He jumped on us the minute we walked through the door and started squealing about how he now has a job.  This morning he was hired as an aesthetician at Super Modern Beauty World, a hair and makeup salon in the downtown ethnic Nandorin community.  He doesn't have a certificate in aesthetics, but he's been selling cosmetics at the mall long enough to know how to effectively apply them.  Plus he speaks Nandorin, which was the main qualifying factor.  He starts on Thursday.  So to celebrate, he's coming to the cabaret with us tonight.  He's going to give me a cabaret makeover.  I'm worried this will end in me looking very foolish.  
  
April 6th  
  
I ended up not going to the cabaret.  Aerthos and I are fighting.  
  
It started just after six last night, when Aerthos woke me up from my nap to angrily accuse me of cheating on him.  I had no idea what he was talking about, so I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."  He dragged me out of bed and over to the computer, where the picture of Legolas' bum was on prominent display.  "That's Elrohir's picture," I said.  "Then why is it on your computer?!" he asked.  "Why are you snooping around on my computer?" I asked back.  He said he wasn't snooping.  All the school computer labs were full of last-minute essay-writers, and he needed to write his last-minute essay on my computer.  His essay happened to be about Legolas' role in the War of the Ring.  He started it this morning while I was at school, then came back to work on it again after his first class, but had forgotten where he saved it.  When he did a hard drive search for "Legolas", that picture came up.  
  
I tried to explain how Legolas wanted a picture of Elrohir's autograph on his bum, and how I had just received a new digital camera that everyone wanted to try out, but he didn't believe me.  I offered to delete the picture, since I'd already emailed it to Legolas and Elrohir, but even that didn't help.  Aerthos stormed off and spent the next hour locked in the bathroom, allegedly getting ready for the cabaret.  I didn't know what else to do, so I went back to sleep.  
  
At nine, Rúmil knocked on the door and said he was ready to give me my makeover.  I was too groggy to dissuade him.  He started by doing my hair in a fancy way, then choosing my clothes.  He honestly expected me to wear Elrohir's vinyl trousers and see-through black shirt.  I think he must've noticed that Aerthos and I weren't getting along, because he said, "Now this will definitely catch his attention!"  Then he handed me a little spray bottle of cologne, "Guaranteed to make anyone feel way sexy," and told me to spray some up in the air and then walk into the mist.  I did.  I stepped into the mist of cologne, and got some in my eyes and inhaled a good portion of the rest of it.  Between the streaming tears and the uncontrollable coughing as I gasped for breath, I don't think it helped make me very sexy.  Rúmil shouted "You should've kept your eyes closed!" just as I blindly stumbled into the bed frame and cracked my shin.  
  
It was about then that I said I wasn't going to the cabaret.  I changed out of Elrohir's clothes, gave Rúmil my ticket so he wouldn't have to pay high door prices, and got back into bed.  Elrohir came in to try to change my mind (wearing baggy neon shorts and a Hypercolour shirt), but I gruffly told him he'd have to enjoy Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer by himself.  He asked if he could at least borrow my camera so he could take pictures for me, and I said yes.  Luckily, I immediately I remembered that he is Elrohir and can't be trusted with a $400 camera, so I gave him twenty bucks to buy a Kodak Funsaver instead.  
  
Then I went to sleep and stayed asleep until four in the morning, when I had to go to the bathroom.  I got up to go and found Aerthos and Rúmil sitting on the sofa together in the dark with the television on mute, talking very quietly.  I was sure they were talking about me, because what else would they have in common to talk about?  I accused them of doing so, but Aerthos haughtily said, "We have much better things to talk about than you, Elladan."  That made me a bit worried.  What could they possibly have to talk about at four in the morning?  
  
I told them I couldn't sleep and wanted to watch television, which I hoped would give them a good opportunity to quit their weird talking and go to bed, but it didn't.  They just went to go talk in the basement.  It was six before they finally came back upstairs and went to sleep.  
  
I was supposed to go in to the props lab and work on my foam Ringil today, but instead I spent the day in a groggy haze on the sofa, alternately dozing and watching bad home décor programmes.  Elrohir did go to the lab for a while to work on a papier maché Crown of Morgoth.  He brought home his fake Silmarilli (made of raisins, glow-in-the-dark paint, iridescent cellophane, and shellac) to try to cheer me up.  I told him they were very nice, if a bit lumpy. He's going to try to smooth them out tomorrow with more shellac.  
  
April 8th  
  
Aerthos is spending altogether too much time with Rúmil lately.  Mostly they sit together on the sofa talking quietly, and falling suddenly silent whenever I walk into the room.  At first when Elrohir suggested they were plotting against me, I told him that was the dumbest thing I'd heard all week.  Now I'm not so sure.  
  
I've been sharing the hide-a-bed downstairs with Elrohir because Aerthos has made it very clear he doesn't want me in our room.  I think his reaction to the Legolas picture has been a bit extreme.  
  
April 9th  
  
Quenya oral exam today.  All I had to do was talk to the professor in Quenya.  She asked me a few questions like "What are your favourite classes?" and "What are your hobbies?"  I didn't have a favourite class, so I lied and said I was doing really well in Math (mainly because Math was one of the only Quenya subject names I could remember), and told her about my exciting hobby of playing computer games.  Then I had to sing a song.  The only songs I knew all the Quenya words to were Fiommereth songs, so I sang "Á Cena, Melwa Lohtë".  In hindsight, that was probably a bad choice, due to the song's rather operatic nature.  I started on the wrong note and ended up having to start over in a higher key when the song went too low.  But after that I was free to go.  
  
I met Elrohir in the props lab, where he was carefully shellacking his Silmarilli to try to make them less lumpy.  I took out my Ringil and started dabbing on shoe polish.  We worked happily side by side, listening to an oldies radio station that seemed to be playing a non-stop line-up of dad's favourite songs.  At four-thirty when the props lab closed we went to the pizza place across the Parkway for supper.  I didn't really want to go home, because of Aerthos and Rúmil.  Elrohir didn't want to go home either, but for completely different reasons.  His basement bedroom has ants in it and he claims they smell funny.  
  
When we did get home, Aerthos had put on his "My Fair Lady" CD and he and Rúmil were waltzing around the living room singing "I Could Have Danced All Night."  Though, as usual, they were singing a different verb instead of "danced".  Rúmil had put on fake eyelashes an impressive amount of makeup, and Aerthos was holding a margarita and wearing clothes that were far too tight.  They are walking, talking (and dancing) stereotypes.  
  
I went downstairs without a word, to help Elrohir play Nintendo.  
  
April 11th  
  
Rang dad this morning and asked if he'd booked plane tickets home for Elrohir and me yet.  He said no, since he was wondering if I wanted to stay in the Grey Havens with my boyfriend.  I said "Certainly not."  I was relieved to note he had the decency not to ask why not.  Then he gave me his MasterCard number and told me to book the tickets myself.  I wonder if he'd be upset if I booked Elrohir and me into first class.  
  
April 12th  
  
I worked on Ringil today while Elrohir worked on his Silmarilli, but I don't seem to be making much progress.  The shoe polish looks nice, but it takes forever to apply.  
  
Neither Aerthos nor Rúmil was home when I got in at five, so Elrohir and I had our own quiet supper of hot dogs and Alphagetti.  Then I booked our tickets home, on the 20th.  I was more than a little disappointed that the airline doesn't offer first class or business class on short-haul flights.  
  
April 13th  
  
Aerthos and Rúmil are in love.  They told me officially today.  I said I was very happy for them, which was almost true.  I would've been happy for them if they weren't so annoying.  Then Aerthos broke down sobbing and said a bunch of stuff like he never meant to hurt me and he was sorry it had to end this way and it wasn't my fault and he hoped we could still be friends.  I told him not to worry.  Really, I was relieved.  I've been wondering how to break up with him for a long time now, and this is the perfect solution.  Aerthos also said he was sorry for making such a big deal of the photo of Legolas' bum on my hard drive.  He only did it because he was feeling guilty over cheating on me with Rúmil (they've been in love ever since they first saw each other at the airport, I guess) and was trying to shift some of the blame.  
  
But things are surprisingly more harmonious now at home.  I have moved back into my room and Rúmil has moved in with Aerthos.  And everyone fights less, since we don't have to pretend we're still in love with/not in love with everyone else.  The only person not affected is Elrohir.  He still just sits downstairs and plays Nintendo.  
  
April 16th  
  
Ringil is finished.  I went in to work on it every day this week, and just finished a few hours before the props lab closed for the year.  It looks almost like a real sword if I stand across the room and squint my eyes.  I handed it over to the lab tech for grading, and can pick it up on Monday.  
  
Yesterday was my last Poli Sci exam (ever!), and I think that went well enough.  By some incredible stroke of luck, the long essay question worth half the exam marks was about Oropher.  I was able to finish in under two hours.  
  
But.  I am now completely finished everything to do with university forever.  I have no more classes, no more exams, no more assignments, no more anything.  I am going to celebrate by drinking a whole bottle of bad wine by myself while watching television.  
  
April 17th  
  
I spent all of last night drinking a bottle of bad wine and watching television.  Aerthos and Rúmil were out doing something stereotypically gay by themselves, so Elrohir made me fish sticks for supper.  Then he helped me watch television while drinking a whole bottle of Coke by himself.  Sometime later, when I was good and drunk and Elrohir was good and hyper, we decided to ring Glorfindel.  Luckily, he had his (Finarfin's) mobile switched on.  
  
He said, "Finwë Lauron," and I yelled, "GUESS WHAT GLORFINDEL I'M DONE UNIVERSITY FOREVER!!!" while Elrohir shouted "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" in the background until he started coughing.  
  
There was a short pause before Glorfindel said, "Elladan?"  I said, "Elladan is DONE UNIVERSITY FOREVER!"  Glorfindel said, "Yes, you told me that already."  Elrohir, who had finally stopped coughing, yelled "WOOOOOO!" again.  After another pause, Glorfindel asked, "Are you drunk?"  Both Elrohir and I yelled "WOOOOOOO!!!" in reply.  I think we were under the impression that this was the funniest thing ever.  Glorfindel made a growly sound and said, "I have to go now," and disconnected.  I think he was just envious because it was the middle of the afternoon in Valinor and he couldn't be drunk too.  
  
I spent all of today being lazy and sort of sick.  
  
April 18th  
  
After realising that our plane leaves in two days, Elrohir and I decided we should probably pack.  Packing to go home is never as organised or neat as packing to go to school.  I tend to just stuff everything in boxes carelessly.  
  
First we boxed up everything that wouldn't fit in our suitcases.  Elrohir said a tearful temporary goodbye to the Nintendo.  I'm not sure where it all comes from, but somehow we have far more stuff to take home than what we brought in the first place.  Then when all those boxes were placed in the front entry ready to go to the bus depot tomorrow, we started packing up our clothes and things to go on the plane with us.  Naturally I had far too much stuff, and had to end up putting some of it in more boxes.  In all, we had eleven boxes to send on the bus.  I'm glad I still have dad's MasterCard number.  
  
April 19th  
  
It took two taxi rides to get all the boxes to the bus depot, but even the cost of the taxis paled in comparison to the cost of shipping all those boxes to Rivendell on the bus.  I'm not going to mention it to dad, and hopefully he won't ask or notice.  
  
Naturally, as tonight is my last night in the Grey Havens (hopefully forever), Aerthos and Rúmil are having a dinner party.  But since they don't want to cook, the dinner party is going to be at the Ramada's dining room.  I've invited Angiliath and her girlfriend to come along, and Elrohir has invited Nova.  It promises to be a memorable evening.  
  
April 20th  
  
I am at the Grey Havens airport.  Our plane has been delayed, as usual, though this time it's because one of the security guards found traces of explosives on Elrohir's backpack.  He's been hauled off for questioning.  Meanwhile, his bags have been taken off the plane, we've been grounded until the situation clears up, and everyone is angrily waiting around.  I'm too hung over to care.    
  
I spent all of last night's supper just waiting for something awful to happen, but it never did.  I wasted a good worry for nothing.  Nova was waiting at the restaurant when we arrived and Angiliath and Merenel showed up a few minutes later.  Outside of the fact that she was holding Angiliath's hand, I never would have suspected Merenel was gay.  She was wearing makeup a flowery dress.  Actually, she reminded me a lot of Arwen.  She sat next to Nova at the table and the two spent most of the evening taking about designer shoes.  Angiliath sat across from Elrohir and the two of them spent most of the evening discussing the evolution of video game systems.  I was forced to talk to Aerthos and Rúmil, and all they wanted to talk about was actors they thought were hot, and which famous people are allegedly gay.  Rúmil swore up and down that he had it on good authority that Sauron was gay.  I refrained from pointing out that, since Sauron doesn't have a body, whether or not he's gay is irrelevant.  
  
After hearing the full list of Who's Gay in the World According to Rúmil (Aragorn made the list, which made me accidentally snort water up my nose), the food arrived.  I had ordered a hamburger, since it was the only thing on the menu that didn't list mushrooms as an ingredient.  It had mushrooms on it anyhow.  I scraped them off and gave them to Elrohir.  He likes mushrooms, but only fried ones that came out of a tin.  These ones were fried and definitely looked tinned, so he was happy.  There were no chicken fingers for Elrohir to order, so he had a mushroom-stuffed chicken breast.  Unfortunately the mushrooms in his chicken weren't tinned, so he gave them to Nova.  Having grown up on the borders of the Shire, Nova appreciates all kinds of mushrooms.  Elrohir stuffed my tinned fried mushrooms into the mushroom hole in his chicken.  
  
When the food was done, we ordered several pitchers of beer and two bottles of wine, and kept drinking until the manager kicked us out at midnight.  Then we went to the Freehouse next door for more drinking, where Aerthos and Rúmil made a proud display of their sexuality by mauling each other in one of the booths.  The dignified-looking couple in the next booth got up and left.  I just kept drinking.  By the time last call was sounded at two, we were all thoroughly inebriated.  Angiliath and Merenel couldn't stop laughing, Nova was sobbing to Elrohir about how she was worried he wouldn't remember her, and Rúmil and Aerthos were telling me how much they loved me.  I was momentarily caught up in the sappiness and told them I loved them too.  But then I remembered how annoying they are and began to list all the things they do to piss me off.  
  
Mainly I'm concerned with the complete lack of common sense from both of them.  Aerthos is always leaving lights on all over the house while at the same time complaining about the energy bill.  The compost bin is always overflowing with banana peels, since he has this unfounded notion that bananas increase one's sex drive.  Plus, he seems to think that restaurant dishes are free for the taking.  Half the glasses in our cupboard say "Moxie's".  And Rúmil is just plain wasteful.  While normal people sort laundry into broad categories, he sorts it into miniscule piles by exact colour.  The other day I caught him putting a turquoise load through the machine.  
  
They both broke down to admit that it was all true and they were terrible people.  Which is what I wanted, I suppose, though it didn't make me feel any less annoyed.  Maybe because they didn't offer to change their behaviour.  Then Rúmil downed the last of his Rev in one gulp and promptly ran to the toilets to be sick.  We went home after that.  Once somebody is sick in the public toilets, the party's over.  It just ruins the mood.  
   
According to my bedside travel alarm clock, I went to bed at quarter to four and got up to ring a taxi for the airport at seven thirty.  I have now been sitting in the same uncomfortable plastic boarding lounge seat for nearly three hours, and I dare not fall asleep because the airport is a very shady place indeed and some criminal would likely steal my computer, passport, and valuable carry-on luggage.  And that would just delay the plane even more (not to mention upset me).  
  
April 21st  
  
I am never leaving home again.  Everything I want is right here.  And dad pays for it, so that makes it all the better.  
  
Dad picked us up at the airport last night.  He was dreadfully worried over what had delayed the plane for so long, and Elrohir had to explain the whole story about how the shellac he used on his Silmarilli containing similar ingredients to plastic explosive.  He had dripped some shellac on his backpack in the props lab, and it set off the detector at the airport.  He had to be strip searched and eventually I was called in to verify that yes, he had been using shellac to cover glow-in-the-dark painted raisins in an attempt to make fake Silmarilli, and no, the Silmarilli were for a school project and he wasn't attempting to sell them on the black market.  Luckily I took a photo the other week of Elrohir laboriously painting raisins in the props lab, and had the picture on my camera to show the security guards.  His backpack was in the photo, right next to a can of shellac.  
  
Dad said he was going to write a stern letter of complaint to the Grey Havens Airport Authority for daring to abuse his son, but both Elrohir and I assured him that it was an honest mistake.  Elrohir does look, act and dress rather like a thug, after all, and he even admitted that trying to sneak explosives onto an airplane seems like something he might try.  He tried to sneak on a plastic cutlery set, but they confiscated it.  I'm not sure why, though, because they gave us plastic cutlery on the plane to use with our dinners.  
  
Erestor had a nice home-cooked supper waiting when we arrived at home.  Supper that covered all four food groups and looked like it had actual nutritional value.  Supper that didn't come out of a freezer box.  I've missed eating actual supper, at an actual table on actual dishes.  We had a real supper conversation, too.  Dad asked us how the semester went, and both Elrohir and I said, "Good."  A conversation in our household is defined as an exchange of two or more words between two or more people.  Average conversation length is between five and ten words (as in, "Did you clean the bathroom yet?" "No").  
  
After supper, Elrohir got the iguana out and hand-fed it little pieces of mushy cat food.  It was shedding, which Elrohir took as a good sign that dad and Erestor have been feeding it well in his absence.  He showed it his Silmarilli.  It tried to eat one.  Then it climbed up onto his head and stayed there while he watched television.  It sort of made me wish I had an iguana to sit on my head as I watched television, but then the iguana crawled away and pooped down the back of the sofa.  At that point, I was glad I didn't have an iguana to clean up after.  
  
April 24th  
  
Some of my final marks are starting to come in on the GHU transcript website.  So far, I have 88 in P.E. and 84 in Poli Sci 442.  Dad is taking this as a good sign that he can now retire safely.  Today I found him and Erestor sitting at the kitchen table looking over brochures for condo resorts in Eldos and Tavrobel.  Elrohir got all excited over one particular brochure, until I explained to him that the photo inside was of plain old tourists on a nude beach, not wild Elves sunning themselves by the sea.  
  
April 26th  
  
The rest of my marks are in.  I got 81 in prop-making, 81 in Quenya, and an unhoped-for 86 in my directed study.  I guess the prof really liked that crappy compilation website project I did.  
  
Elrohir got 87 in prop-making and 96 in Quenya.  That's now two things at which he's better than I.  And for the year overall, his average is 1,4% higher.  Something is terribly wrong with the universe.  
  
April 29th  
  
Dad had a Talk with me after work today.  Now that all my marks are in and my graduation is an absolute certainty, I have to start going to the office with him.  He and Erestor have decided that they will retire in one year's time.  That means I have one year to learn how to do his job.  I told him that one year wasn't exactly enough time to learn how to be a competent world leader, but he kept saying he had faith in me.  I took that to mean that he'd already started planning his bright, work-free Valinor future and didn't want to stick around here any longer.  
  
So Monday will be the first day of my Official Responsible Adult Life.  At nearly 3000 years old, it's probably high time to do so.  But I still don't really want to.  Official Responsible Adult Life seems like it would be the sort of thing that takes up a lot of time and energy and sucks the fun out of every aspect of everything.  And, worst of all, I might end up turning into dad.  That's a fate worse than death-by-balrog.


	22. Rivendell Nine to Five: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

September 28th  
  
At 10 this morning, Elrohir and I drove dad and Erestor to the airport.  Much awkwardness ensued.  Nobody really knew what to say.  As we stood in the boarding pass queue, dad went over for the hundredth time how the thermostat worked.  I didn't really pay attention.  I figure that if it breaks, I'll ring somebody to fix it, and that's good enough.  Erestor warned Elrohir for the hundredth time not to mess with the fridge settings, because the fridge is very temperamental.  Elrohir promised that he wouldn't, but I knew that as soon as we got home he'd start poking around at it, because Elrohir is just like that.  
  
Erestor went through security first, had his nail file confiscated, and disappeared down a corridor.  Dad hugged Elrohir and me goodbye, reminded us that the car needs an oil change, and followed Erestor.  There is a very real possibility that I will never see dad again, and my final mental image was about to be him bending down to hike up his socks.  But then he remembered that he still had the car keys in his pocket, and came racing back out to toss them to me from across the security checkpoint.  So now my final mental image of dad will be him with a panicked look on his face, tossing me the keys to the Mazda over a Plexiglas wall.  
  
Just to be sure they hadn't forgotten anything, Elrohir and I waited around in the airport for an hour until the plane took off.  He wanted to buy a plastic model airplane from one of the souvenir shops, but as I am now the responsible adult, it was my duty to stop him.  I let him buy an airplane-shaped chocolate instead.  Then we headed out to dad's car, which is now my car, and drove back to dad's house, which is now my house.  Just because we could, we stopped and picked up pizza for dinner on the way home.  
  
This is every Elf's dream come true.  My parents and all parentalesque cohabiting adults have finally moved to Valinor.  I am not sure what they plan to do in Valinor, but at least they're gone.  Erestor once said something about working at a golf course.  That sounds about right for them.  Anything that involves bad fashion and discount golf should make them happy.  
  
Elrohir and I spent the afternoon being lazy and enjoying our freedom.  I didn't bother going in to work.  I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing at work most of the time, so chances are I didn't miss anything and nobody missed me.  Instead of work, I sat on a raft that Elrohir made out of pool noodles and floated around the deep end with a glass of lemonade.  Erestor never let us make pool noodle rafts, as he didn't approve of using string in conjunction with pool toys, and dad always forbade the use of glass dishes outdoors and especially forbade the drinking of beverages in the pool.  But seeing as they were in a plane somewhere above the Shire, there was nobody to stop me.  Elrohir put one of the vinyl deck chairs in the shallow end.  When he sat down, he was at exactly the right height so that only his head was above water.  
  
We were both too lazy to cook supper, so we had pita bread and ice cream bars.  Dad and Erestor rang from the Grey Havens to let us know the flight went well.  They'll ring again from Eldos tomorrow.  After I assured dad that everything was fine around the house, he asked to speak to Elrohir.  I told him Elrohir was in the bath.  That was a lie, as Elrohir was actually just downstairs getting another box of ice cream bars from the deep freeze, but I didn't want to give dad the opportunity to find out about our pool foolery.  Elrohir's big mouth could always cause dad to change his mind and hop on the first flight back home.  
  
After dad disconnected, I came to settle down for the night in his room, which is now my room.  It looks pretty empty.  I suppose I never really noticed how big this room is, since it's always been filled with random things and out of date furniture.  I may have to stay home from work tomorrow, too, just to get everything sorted out in here.  
  
September 29th  
  
Rang Lindir at the office this morning to tell him I wasn't coming in. I gave a vague excuse, like I needed some time off to look after some things now that dad's gone.  He said he understood completely, and told me not to bother coming in for the rest of the week.  I was happy when he said that, but now that I think it over, he may have been insulting me.  Did he mean he understood completely that I was just skiving off work for no good reason?  And did he tell me not to bother coming in because he knows I'm useless?  I would consider going in to work just to try to find out, but I don't think I'm that dedicated.  I'd rather stay home and dink around with household organisation.  
  
The first task was to move all of my stuff from my old room into my new room.  My new room is much larger than my old room, so now I should be able to display my stuff in a less cluttered way.  I'll need to get some new furniture first, though.  Half of the stuff in here is hideous, and the rest dad wants me to ship to Tol Eressëa for him.  I might take Elrohir to Ikea some day soon.  I still have that gift certificate Arwen gave me.  But for now, the charming décor of boxes full of stuff I'm not even sure is really mine will have to do.  
  
The second task was to get rid of all of dad's remaining stuff.  The back of his closet is full of boxes that he didn't have time to sort through before he left.  He gave us instructions to give away anything we don't think he'll need, and to ship him the rest.  I went through most of the boxes with Elrohir, and we're pretty sure he won't need any of it.  We found a veritable goldmine of useless crap, and made up a song about it.  It went something like:  
  
On the twelfth day of moving, the closet gave to me:  
Twelve ancient road maps,  
Eleven dusty records,  
Ten pairs of dress shoes,  
Nine macramé books,  
Eight expired passports  
Seven bags of clothing  
Six creepy spiders  
FIIIIIIIIIIIVE O-OOOOOOLD LAAAAAAAMPS!!!  
Four 8-track tapes  
Three broken stools  
Two half-knit sweaters  
And a box full of bells shaped like Elves!  
  
Apart from these treasures, we also found some things that were just plain bizarre, like a single water buffalo horn wrapped in twine, a framed caricature of Gil-galad boxing with an alligator, a four-foot-long stuffed and mounted fish, a mandolin missing half its strings, and the biggest bright orange sheepskin I've ever seen in my life.  To me, this stuff just screams "garage sale".  But when dad rang from Eldos (sounding very tired), he whined that many of those old things had sentimental value.  He wants me to ship him the mandolin and the picture of Gil-galad.  Also the box of bells shaped like Elves.  That's Erestor's prized collection.  I should have known.  
  
But I think I'm going to sell the rest of the stuff. I'll get Elrohir to help me go through all the boxes in the basement tomorrow to find more for our sale.  
  
October 1st  
  
The garage sale will be next weekend.  We have far more stuff than anticipated.  Elrohir and I spent all of yesterday and most of today going through the basement boxes, and we're still not done.  But on the plus side, at least most of it is going in the "sell pile".  Actually it's more of a "large sell area that takes up a good portion of the basement floor".  I don't think it's going to fit into the garage.  We might end up having a driveway sale instead.  
  
Tomorrow I think we might have to go through the sell pile and sort it further into "sell" and "chuck".  Because really, the more I think about it, nobody's going to want an 8-track player without a power cord, or a broken Fiommereth tree stand.  
  
October 3rd  
  
I went to work today.  Nothing important had happened in my absence, so I had nothing to do.  Now I know for sure I am the most incompetent leader in the history of Elvish leaders.  I know people always accuse politicians of not knowing what they're doing, but I really don't know what I'm doing.  I think it may have been a mistake for dad to appoint me as his successor.  
  
This term so far has been a political gong show.  The only thing I have accomplished as Beloved Leader of Rivendell is to pass a bylaw prohibiting the use of all gas-powered or electric lawn mowers, weed trimmers and other loud gardening gadgets between the hours of 10 pm and 9 am.  It happened completely by accident one day in August when dad didn't bother coming to work and put me in charge.  All I did was obliviously sign a bunch of papers, and the next thing I knew Lindir was congratulating me on finally standing up to inconsiderate lawn-care fanatics.  I think he was the one who proposed the bylaw in the first place.  One of the residents on his street is an insomniac who runs a landscaping business.  
  
Since I didn't know what else to do today, I spent some time on the telephone with various other world leaders.  That's what politicians do in movies.  Though I suppose in movies they're discussing urgent national security threats or something.  I was just having casual conversations with Aragorn, grandpa, and Thranduil.  Aragorn told me that Arwen is trying to get pregnant and he is trying to not get Arwen pregnant, which was a bit too much information.  Grandpa told me about all the new old timer clubs he might join now that grandma's moved to Tirion and he has free time to fill.  Thranduil asked if I'd seen Legolas, who I guess is missing again.  
  
The conversations took me up until lunch time.  After lunch, I had to find something else to do, so I made various appointments to get things around the house ready for winter.  The furnace and water heater inspector is coming on Thursday, the pool draining team on Saturday, and a landscaping consultant next Monday.  I'm not really sure if I needed the landscaping consultant, but I was bored and the company had a catchy banner in the phone directory.  
  
When I got home, Elrohir had made breakfast sausages and pancakes for supper.  Then we went to go sit in the pool, even though it was ridiculously cold outside, just because we only have a few days of pool time left.  
  
October 6th  
  
I think today just might have been the worst day ever.  
  
It started at breakfast.  Elrohir was sitting across the table from me, annoyed that I'd gotten him out of bed so early, even though I clearly explained that he had to be awake when the furnace inspector showed up.  He made a big show of yawning loudly to prove how tired he was, then somehow managed to sprain his jaw yawning and sneezing at the same time.  I had to take him to the emergency room and wait around until he was assessed by a doctor (who did nothing but tell him to take some Advil for the pain) then drive him home.  I was three hours late for work.  And when I got in, there was an irate message on my voice mail from the furnace inspector, complaining that there was nobody home when I had clearly promised him that somebody would be.  Now I'm going to be on the furnace inspection blacklist, and will probably die of carbon monoxide poisoning from faulty furnace ducts!  
  
I decided to take two bowls of soup from the office dinner buffet since I had missed breakfast due to Elrohir's stupid jaw.  I'm not sure how, but this caused a problem with the computerised dinner card system.  Apparently my dinner card only allows me one bowl of soup or vegetable tray per day, one sandwich or hot entrée, one salad, one bun, one beverage, and one dessert.  Swapping my dessert option for a second soup bowl is not allowed.  But I was also not allowed to put the soup back, because I had already salt and peppered it.  The dumbfounded cafeteria cashier had no idea what to do.  He had to call for the cafeteria manager.  The manager clearly stated the rules, only one bowl of soup per employee per day, and returning food to the buffet once it has been placed on a tray is not allowed, but he did not say what I should do.  By this time, everyone in the queue behind me was glaring and shuffling restlessly.  
  
The manager made me stand to the side until a solution could be reached.  None of the kitchen staff had any ideas.  I loudly suggested that since I am the head of the entire government I should be allowed two bowls of soup without all this hassle, but as usual nobody listened to me.  Nobody ever listens to me!  I had to wait until Lindir came down for dinner.  I gave him my second soup bowl, and went off to sit in a corner and angrily eat dinner by myself.  It didn't work.  Lindir came and sat down across from me and spent the next half hour discussing civil servant salary increase percentages over the past century.  
  
Some time over the dinner hour my watch battery must have died, because I was twenty minutes late getting back to my office, and therefore twenty minutes late getting to my meeting.  The meeting was to discuss employee dinner card policy.  Everyone in the room took my tardiness as a sign of disinterest in the topic, which was anything but true.  As a result, nobody paid attention to my passionate plea that dinner cards come pre-loaded for a certain cash value, not item quantity, so that employees could choose to have two bowls of soup and no dessert if that's what they want.  I could have cried when the vote passed to make no changes to the dinner card workings.  
  
I left work right after the meeting was over.  I couldn't handle it any more.  Also, I needed to stop by the mall and get a new battery for my watch.  I walked all the way into the department store jewellery counter, only to discover I'd left my watch in my coat pocket, which was in the car.  I walked all the way back out to the car, only to discover that I'd locked the door and left the keys in the ignition.  Almost cried again.  At least I had my wallet in my trouser pocket.  I walked back into the store and just bought a new watch.  Then had to go to an ATM to withdraw $20, then had to go to a bank branch to get the $20 made into change for the bus.  Took the bus to the tram station, and took the tram home.  Only the tram stop nearest home was closed for construction, so I had to go all the way to the zoo and then walk all the way back, up the big hill.  Meanwhile, I discovered that the strap on my new watch is faulty.  And I can't return it because I cleverly left the bag with the receipt on the jewellery counter.  
  
At this point I was just too tired and frazzled to go back to the mall and fetch the car.  So I sent Elrohir in a cab with the spare keys.  He just got back fifteen minutes ago.  The car is covered in mud and has a rubber cactus on the radio antenna.  I didn't ask.  
  
I am seriously thinking of going to bed right now and not getting up for a week.  
  
October 8th  
  
No yard sale today either.  I'm not sure where it all comes from, but the basement is full of things.  Rollerblades that used to belong to Arwen.  Chess boards with no chess pieces.  Records that run at 78 rpm.  A shuffleboard table.  Rolls of old shag carpet.  Coffee mugs that say things like "Sportek Yoga Retreat 2762".  And then all the photo albums.  It feels wrong to just chuck out all those pictures, but what else am I supposed to do with them?  There are almost two hundred photo albums in boxes down there.  Most of them are from the Second and early Third Age, since mum and dad sort of stopped taking pictures sometime around Arwen's high school graduation (I think that's when their camera broke, and they never bothered to get another one).  
  
Some of the photos are good for a laugh.  There's an entire album full of the wild antics of Lindon.  Six whole pages are devoted to one game of Twister.  Then there's another album of mum and dad's wedding, and the clothes alone are enough to bring out a few snickers.  I still can't believe dad got married in a chocolate brown corduroy suit, and mum in a shiny minidress.  No wonder the marriage didn't last.  
  
I think I may take the easy way out and just ship them all to dad.  Then the burden of overwhelming photo storage will be on him.  
  
I was really looking forward to a quick swim after toiling all day amid dusty boxes in the basement, but then I remembered that the pool workers were draining the water and winterising the system.  So instead I got to sit on a deck chair with a beer and watch them.  It wasn't quite as satisfying.  The pool men treated me with surly contempt.  I think it was because I didn't offer them a beer.  
  
October 9th  
  
Yard sale has been postponed until next summer, due to a freak blizzard and a sudden abundance of snow.  So I've given up on the cleaning and sorting for now.  All the junk can sit as-is in piles in the basement until June.  Nobody really uses the basement anyhow, except to store things that are soon forgotten and never used again.  
  
With no sorting to do, I took Elrohir to Ikea to help me pick out new furniture.  This was probably the dumbest mistake ever, because the snowed-in roads were packed with maniac drivers skidding all over the place.  It took us almost an hour to get there, after three near misses and almost being run off the bridge by a swerving bus.  We had to sit in the Ikea restaurant and have bad Ikea cappuccino to soothe our nerves.  Actually, I had to sit in the Ikea restaurant.  Elrohir thought the drive over was highly exciting, and couldn't wait to try our luck on the way home.  
  
We walked through the whole store, and Elrohir wanted to buy almost everything we saw.  Anything remotely impractical or bizarrely-shaped, he recommended.  Yet he turned his nose up at my reasonably stylish selections.  I'm sorry, but I just have no use for a plastic chair shaped like a bean or a spherical coffee table.  I want a usual-type comfortable padded chair and a usual-type flat-topped coffee table.  One that matches my no-nonsense bookcase, dresser, and end tables.  Elrohir got angry and said that I never listen to what he says, and that I shouldn't have brought him along if he wasn't needed.  I told him he was needed to help me carry the boxes out to the car, but I guess that wasn't what he had in mind.  
  
As a compromise, and to get him to stop making a fuss in the middle of the lighting showroom, I promised he could redecorate the basement all by himself, no questions asked, once the junk was removed.  That seemed to make him happy.  But just to be sure, I bought him an ice cream cone on our way out.  
  
October 14th  
  
Next time I'll know better, and buy pre-made furniture from a pre-made furniture store.  It may be more expensive, but the absence of hassle is worth it.  The Ikea pieces are still unassembled, still leaning accusingly against my wall.  The vague instructional drawings are no help at all.  The diagram shows there are supposed to be holes and pegs, but the pegs just plain don't fit where the holes are.  And Elrohir is useless; he keeps putting the bookcase together with shelves upside-down.  I was forced to post a notice on the cork board by the drink machine at work: "Will pay $50 to anyone who can successfully assemble Ikea products".  I saw some of the interns eyeing it as I left, so with any luck one of them will be a carpentry whiz.  
  
October 15th  
  
A girl named Taleryn is coming by tomorrow to assemble the Ikea furniture.  I'm a bit worried about having a girl do it, but she was the only one who rang to offer her services.  I hope she knows what she's doing and doesn't just want to try to scam an easy $50.  
  
October 16th  
  
Taleryn called round at four, and by five-thirty I had three fully-assembled pieces of Ikea furniture.  And she did it all without power tools.  I was duly impressed.  I gave her the $50 plus a generous tip.  Elrohir invited her to stay for supper.  I'm fairly sure this was because she's conventionally cute and wearing a tight shirt, and not, as he claimed, because he'd made too much weird crap for supper and knew I wasn't going to eat it all.  
  
We sat down at the table and he gave us each a plate of some strange-looking brownish goo.  I asked what it was.  He said, "A delightful blend of potato and turkey, chopped, mashed, smothered in gravy, infused with stuffing, seasoned with salt and pepper, combined with our special top-secret cabbage salad, stirred until smooth, deep fried, drizzled with hot barbeque sauce, and served on a crisp leaf of lettuce for your satisfaction."  I still didn't know what it was.  And it tasted sort of like charcoal.  
  
Taleryn is coming back tomorrow after work to play Nintendo with Elrohir.  Apparently she's really good at City Connection.  I wouldn't know.  I wasn't allowed in the den with them after supper to witness the high scoring.  
  
October 18th  
  
I hate my job.  I hate work in general.  I hate being a responsible adult!  
  
Today at work Lindir almost choked to death on a blue whale.  Now he's trying to get me to support his ridiculous wish to sue the candy company.  I told him that was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard.  I mean, I know I've heard far dumber things from Elrohir in the past, but saying "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard" has so much more power than saying, "That's approximately the fifty-sixth dumbest thing I've ever heard."  So I exaggerated a bit.  Now he's angry at me for disrespecting his dumb lawsuit desires.  I'm sorry, but I can't help it.  And quite frankly, I'd be embarrassed to get up in front of a judge and tell everyone how I almost died eating a blue whale.  That's just silly.  Everyone knows blue whales have to be eaten responsibly.  
  
Tomorrow I'm going to the bank to see how much money I have and how long I can survive without a job if I quit this one.  I'm sadly guessing not long enough for my liking.  
  
October 19th  
  
Sweet Holy Varda.  I never realised how much money government employees make.  
  
I stopped by the bank after work, checked my account balance on the ATM, and almost fainted when I saw the balance.  I thought it had to be some sort of crazy error.  There was an extra fifty thousand dollars in there!  
  
I rang dad straight away when I got home.  I asked him how much money I made in my current job, and he said, "Somewhere in the range of $370 thousand."  Hearing that made me drop the phone.  
  
Alright.  So, after some careful consideration, maybe I don't hate work so much after all.  I mean, they pay me well enough for what I have to endure.  For $370 thousand per year, I think I can force myself to put up with an awful lot.  
  
October 22nd  
  
I took Elrohir shopping to help me spend some of my ridiculous salary.  I figure it'll be a lot easier to cope with the trials and tribulations of being a world leader if I have the biggest, best television money can buy to come home to and relax in front of after a hard day's work.  
  
We drove up to a high-end electronics store and had the salesman give us his whole pitch and demo.  We watched part of a racing movie on the Panasonic 42-inch and part of a cartoon on the Sony 50-inch before the salesman told us that if were REALLY serious about our television use, we'd have to check out the Toshiba 52-inch.  He let us sit in the viewing room, and we watched a short documentary about tropical fish, with surround sound.  
  
We ended up going for the 52-inch, wide-screen, flat-panel, wall-mountable, HDTV-ready 52-inch Toshiba plasma television with virtual surround sound, AND an actual surround sound 5-disc DVD home theatre system (with speaker stands), AND the component cables, AND an RCA switch box so Elrohir can hook up all his video game systems at once, AND a four-year extended warranty plan.  The whole package cost nearly ten thousand dollars.  But since it'll take me less than two weeks of sitting on my arse behind a desk to make that money back, I didn't really care.  
  
I tried to put it all on my Visa, forgetting that my Visa only has a $3000 limit.  Felt a bit like a dork when the charge was rejected.  Had to use my bank card instead.  I think the salesman lost a considerable amount of respect for me.  First thing Monday before work, I'm stopping by the bank and applying for one of those platinum Visas like Glorfindel has.  The kind with a $50.000 limit.  
  
October 23rd  
  
Spent the day with Elrohir and the new television.  We had to take turns on it.  First I watched the news, because it was my television, then Elrohir played Grand Theft Auto, then I watched an old movie on cable, then Elrohir beat Chrono Trigger again, then we watched horse jumping live from Gondor.  
  
We both agreed that regular full-screen shows look terrible on a wide-screen television.  So now we have to get digital cable, and those expensive wide-screen and HDTV channels, to maximise the viewing experience.  I rang the company to order the best package they offer.  A cable man is calling round on Friday to install everything.  
  
October 25th  
  
Had a hard time getting out of bed this morning and going to work.  It is the fault of the new television.  It made me stay up until four-thirty watching game shows.  You really get into the game shows when the surround sound makes you feel like part of the studio audience.  
  
I went to the bank at lunch to see about a platinum Visa, and while I was there, I also asked about a car loan.  With my newfound financial surplus, I don't much feel like driving dad's old Mazda any more.  I need something fancier.  Something more like a person who makes $370 thousand per year would drive.  Something with heated leather seats and a sun roof.  And a personalised license plate.  
  
October 26th  
  
Elrohir and I went looking at cars.  Once again, we let the salesman go wild with his pitch of what we should look for and what he thinks we need.  According to him, we need a full-size sedan with heated leather seats and a sun roof, along with automatic everything and a computerised navigation system.  After test driving it, I'm inclined to agree.  
  
"It" is a big shiny white Ford 500.  Elrohir wanted to get something foreign, or something like a movie star would drive, but I'm wise to him.  If I get something that he likes, he'll borrow it, get iced tea stains on the upholstery, scratch up the paint, get a dent somewhere, wrap the bumper around a concrete pole, break the radio antenna, and cause the rear-view mirror to fall off.  He has already done half these things to the Mazda, and dad's only been gone a month.  The Ford 500, though, looks like a car grandpa would buy.  So with any luck Elrohir will think it's uncool and refuse to drive it.  
  
It costs almost fifty thousand dollars.  I've never spent that much money on anything in my entire life.  I almost chickened out and ran back to the safety of the Mazda, but the car salesman already had all the papers ready, and all I needed to do was sign my name and write the date where the little yellow sticky tab pointed...  
  
I still have to go back tomorrow and work out the details, but within 24 hours I should have a new car.  One that Glorfindel wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen in.  
  
October 27th  
  
After work I picked up Elrohir, drove to the car lot, and drove away with my new fancy grandpa-type sedan.  Now Elrohir can bang up the Mazda all he wants, and cover it with dumb bumper stickers and tacky novelty license plates and frames.  As long as he doesn't bang it into my new prized possession, I don't care.  
  
But as I was driving home, I started to notice something peculiar.  Everyone around me was driving very carefully.  Normally on Memorial Drive, if the posted speed limit is 70, they all go 80 or more.  But now it was the safe side of 70 all the way.  Nobody cut me off.  Nobody honked or gave me the finger.  Nobody suddenly slammed on the brakes.  All headlights and turning signals were in proper working order.  I even saw a woman hastily fasten her seatbelt.  I was beginning to think I was in a Twilight Zone episode or something, but then I pulled into the driveway behind Elrohir, and as he got out of the Mazda he said, "Man, I thought you were a ghost car following me!"  
  
So my new car looks like a cop car.  It's true.  I sat in the Mazda and had a look.  Sure enough, if I were driving in front of me, I'd think I was a ghost car, too.  
  
Now I have to figure out if this is a good or a bad thing.  I mean, it's nice that people suddenly become courteous drivers when I'm around, but on the other hand, I'll probably get annoyed next time I'm late for work and need to push the speed limit.  
  
October 28th  
  
I rang dad tonight to tell him about the new car and television situation.  He said it all sounded very nice, but didn't I think I should be a bit less frivolous about my financial situation?  I said, "Dad, last week you told me I made $370 thousand a year.  I can afford to be frivolous."  He replied, "Yes, that's true, but you also need to remember that your income tax will be around 35%.  Then there's municipal and property taxes, and bills for energy, electricity, water, insurance..."  
  
It was about then that I started to get a horrible feeling in my stomach.  I weakly asked, "How much is 35% of $370 thousand?"  He hmmed to himself before replying, "Well, last year I think I paid just under $100 thousand in income tax.  But then I had deductions for your and Elrohir's tuition, charitable donations, and RRSPs.  Without those, it would have been closer to $130."  
  
A HUNDRED AND THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN INCOME TAX?!!!  
  
Is this government INSANE?!  I mean, I know I AM the government, but still!  That's ridiculous!  And unnecessary!  And unexpected!  And above all, stupid!  Why should I pay myself $370 thousand dollars if I just have to pay $130 thousand of that right back?  Wouldn't it make sense to just pay myself less in the first place?  I am going to have to see Lindir about this on Monday.  He is the only person I know who understands how stuff like this works.  Because I sure don't get it.  
  
October 30th  
  
I went to Lindir's Balathin party last night, so I had a chance to talk to him about income tax while he was arranging pumpkin-shaped cheese cut-outs on a tray of melba rounds.  He explained to me that income tax was first started in Hithlum by Fingon as a way to finance the Siege of Angband back in the First Age, and it was such a useful way for governments to collect funds that it's been around ever since.  And while that was an interesting piece of trivia, it really didn't help with my dilemma.  I had to ask him outright how I was expected to scratch up $130 thousand dollars in time for April.  
  
Lindir assured me I wouldn't.  Mainly because I would only have three months of my new salary on this tax year.  But even next year, a portion of each pay cheque goes to taxes automatically, so the following April I might end up actually having to pay an additional $70 thousand or so.  ONLY $70 thousand he said!  Alright so that's better than $130, but really...  
  
Still, the talk with Lindir helped me relax a little.  And made me realise the great importance of accountants.  Now I know why dad likes Erestor so much.  I'm starting to miss him myself.  At least he probably would have had a decent costume.  Taking financial advice from Lindir, dressed as a lawn gnome, was a bit surreal.  
  
The rest of the party was bland but bearable.  Watching slightly tipsy co-workers bob for apples was interesting, but not in a makes-me-want-to-join-in kind of way.  I mostly stood by the stereo speakers, where the spooky sound effects CD was too loud to permit idle conversation, and drank fruit punch spiked with vodka and gummi spiders.  Only a few people talked to me all night.  I'm not sure if it was because they were intimidated by my awesomeness and political power or because they didn't get my costume.  I was dressed as the four basic food groups.  Elrohir helped me make it out of an old duvet cover, construction paper, and clingfilm.  I had wanted to be Fingolfin, but I couldn't find the Ringil I made in props class.  
  
When I got home, just before midnight, Elrohir and Taleryn were heading out to a party of their own.  Taleryn was wearing a Playboy Bunny costume.  She didn't seem embarrassed that I, her boss, saw her in it (climbing into my former car, no less).  Elrohir was wearing cowboy boots, ripped jeans, a shiny gold tank top, a knee-length leather jacket with a skull made out of masking tape on the back, a fedora, and an eye patch.  I had to ask what he was supposed to be.  "A zombie pirate," he answered.  I said, "Oh, right," and pretended I knew what he was talking about.  To tell the truth, he looked more like a novice trailer park vampire.  
  
They didn't come home until twenty after four.  I know this because I was watching Evil Dead 2 on the big plasma screen when they came in and told me to leave because Event Horizon was on channel 46 at four thirty and they wanted to watch it.  I had to finish watching Evil Dead 2 on the 13-inch television-video combo in my bedroom.   It seemed so small and inadequate in comparison.  
  
October 31st  
  
Today at work there was a costume contest, pot luck snacks in the twelfth floor lunch room, and inter-office trick-or-treating.  Of course I knew nothing about any of this, so I showed up in my regular dumb work suit with no snacks and no candy to give out to my co-workers.  People should TELL me these things!  I obviously missed an important memo, because even the new interns knew what was going on.  
  
After having to turn two devastated city councillors and the Minister of Justice away from my office with no treats, I decided I'd better get with the program.  I ran down to Super Drug Mart, where I bought a cheap Dwarf costume-in-a-bag (rubber helmet, plastic axe, nylon beard) and two boxes of orange-filled Oreos for the pot luck.  They were out of boxed treats, but in that moment I was inspired.  I ran all the way to Beer Land on Fourth Avenue and bought as many miniature bottles of Bailey's as the stock room could give me.  The spotty desk clerk asked me if maybe a few big bottles wouldn't be a better value, but I explained that the little bottles were for trick-or-treaters.  He gave me a frightened look.  I almost added, "At the office," but thought better of it.  Him thinking I'm giving alcohol to kids is a story to tell his friends, but him knowing I'm actually using it for party-like work purposes might be a story to tell one of those anti-government newspapers.  People already think government workers waste enough time and money.  I don't need word of this foolery getting out.  
  
Anyway, work was better than usual by virtue of the fact that nobody was working and the whole building was in chaos.  The civil servants' union leaders all got together to decorate the Receiver General's office with toilet roll while he was down trick-or-treating in the mail room.  As a result, I was afraid to leave my own office, so I collected no candy.  But it worked out well, because word of the miniature Bailey's bottles quickly spread, and by noon the line to my office door was backed up as far as the elevators.  My supply was depleted within the hour.  I made the last few people sing for their alcohol.  One of the Junior Ministers knew all the words to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song; she was wearing a very well-made Shredder costume.  I had to borrow Lindir's camera to take a picture, because I knew this was something Elrohir would appreciate.  
  
At three I went down to the lobby for the costume contest (taking care to lock my office door: no toilet roll for me, thanks), wearing my crappy Dwarf outfit.  Luckily, most other people were also wearing cheap drug store fare (Nazgûl, Orc, Hobbit, Lothlórien chamber maid, rubber Balrog mask), so I fit in fairly well.  Shredder won third prize.  One of the janitors, dressed as Duff Man, took second, and first prize went to a group of three secretaries dressed as anime schoolgirls.  Personally, I liked Duff Man better, but the judges were all dirty old men who leered openly at the anime girls' prominent boobs, short skirts, and pink wigs.  
  
And that was about all the workish fun and excitement I could handle for one day, so after the costume prizes were awarded I raced home as fast as I could (not that I could go very fast at all with everybody slowing down when they saw my cop-like grandpa sedan) to help Elrohir get the house decorated and the pumpkins carved in time for non-alcoholic trick-or-treaters tonight.  Elrohir had stopped by the Safeway and picked up far more candy than we could possibly give out to a thousand or more kids, and two pumpkins.  I didn't even try to interfere with his pumpkin artistry.  I just hollowed the dumb things out for him.  He's not very good at pumpkin hollowing.  He always leaves the little stringy bits that catch on fire.  
  
Now our front window has a Balrog pumpkin and a Sauron pumpkin.  I hope they work to frighten some of the kids away.  I don't really feel like answering the door much.  And I'm enjoying the candy too much to want to give it away.  I've already finished off seventeen miniature Kit Kats and two handfuls of foil-wrapped chocolate eyeballs. 


	23. Rivendell Nine to Five: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

November 1st  
  
Today is the day when all the Fiommereth ornaments magically appear on lamp posts and in department store windows all over the city.  I swear, they must hire people to work in a twelve-hour marathon of festivity.  Our government building suddenly says "HAPPY HOLIDAYS" in green and red lights on the north side.  I have an enormous twinkling P in my office window.  Today I didn't mind so much, because I had a bag of leftover candy to distract me, but I know it'll eventually drive me mad.  Probably long before the 25th of December.  
  
We only had fifteen trick-or-treaters all of last night, and not an original costume among the lot until a vanload of smart-mouth youths showed up at nine.  One of them was dressed as a Tetris block, so I gave him two handfuls of mini bars.  This made his friends complain, but as they were wearing nylon witch hats and rubber masks, they got no prize.  
  
I must have eaten twelve mini bags of Cheetos though, because by the end of the night there were only three left out of a box of thirty.  Those things go quickly.  
  
November 2nd  
  
Elrohir is not allowed to watch any more scary movies.  He had an Event Horizon nightmare, and woke me up at five this morning to tell me he thought he heard intergalactic hell warp noises coming from the furnace room.  I punched him in the sternum and told him to go away and dream about something better, like an iguana sanctuary.  He came back an hour later in tears, saying he'd had a dream about iguanas being sucked through an intergalactic hell warp.  I had to let him sleep in my bed until I got up at seven thirty.  Then he sat in the den, protectively clutching his iguana and watching bright, happy toddler cartoons.  He is a moron.  
  
November 4th  
  
The P is starting to get annoying.  I can hear it buzzing behind me.  
  
I had an email from Glorfindel today, with about fifty pictures of Elairon's first Balathin.  He was the only baby in his Mums and Kids playgroup dressed like an orc.  All the others were cute things, like kitties and bunnies.  Aralindë looked very proud, holding her little orc up for the camera.  I noticed she's looking much better now that she's not so skinny and no longer wears tiny shirts and jeans that only cover half her bum.  
  
Elairon's first birthday is coming up in a few weeks.  I should probably send a present now, and with any luck it'll get there only two months late.  
  
November 8th  
  
Just after eleven this morning at work, when the twinkling P was annoying me more than usual, I got a collect call.  I picked up the phone, and a thickly-accented Gondorian lady on the other end of the line said, "Good morning, sir, would you like to accept a collect call from," then there was a brief pause before a whiny male voice said, "Manwë."  Only the way he said it sounded like a question.  "Manwë?"  I waited until I could hear the Gondorian lady breathing again, and I said, "No, of course not."  She said, "Thank you sir, you have a nice day."  
  
Why on earth would I accept a collect call from somebody pretending to be Manwë?  That just annoyed me and put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day.  But then when I got home, I started to think, what if it really was Manwë on the line?  Am I now important enough to warrant a telephone conversation with Manwë?  I mean, everyone knows he does talk to Elves sometimes, though usually not through collect telephone conversations.  
  
November 9th  
  
I rang dad and asked if he'd ever talked to Manwë over the telephone.  He said, "No, why would I have done that?"  
  
So now I know for certain it wasn't really Manwë on the line yesterday, and I can relax again.  If he never talked to dad, he'd certainly never want to talk to me.  That's a relief.  I had trouble sleeping last night because of the nagging worry that I'd hung up on a Vala.  
  
November 10th  
  
Had another collect call from "Manwë" today.  I informed the Gondorian operator that I was very busy with important work and therefore could not accept.  Really I was playing spider solitaire at the time and loudly listening to the radio so it would drown out the sound of the P, but she had no way of knowing.  
  
The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced "Manwë" is another word for "Elrohir", or possibly "Orophin".  
  
November 11th  
  
Told Elrohir about the Manwë phone experiences in a vague, roundabout way as we sat around at home and enjoyed the civic holiday.  He sounded very impressed that Manwë would bother to contact me.  A little TOO impressed, maybe...  
  
November 14th  
  
Got an email today from what I think is Manwë's secretary.  Oh crap.  
  
\-----  
From: "Ingwë Orozer" <ingwe.orozer@mhn.tn.gov>  
Subject: important document for reader  
  
Dear master Elladan Peredhel;  
  
We have tried now twice for speaking with you by  
telephone but are unfortunately with no luck  
here. However we are finding your email address  
from the website of your government. We have hope  
this will not be greatly an inconvenience on you  
but is highly necessary that we are communicate.  
  
It is of recent come by the attention of us that  
your father Elrond Peredhel is left Ennor and come  
for living permanent in Aman when you and your  
siblings remain still there. By decision long ago  
from Manwë was said to your father that he may  
choose being Elf or Mortal for living in Ennor and  
when he choose Elf it is for his children also  
this deciding. When he is now left Ennor for Aman,  
the time for decide is come to you and your  
brother. Your sister we know has been decided for  
choose Mortal after her last year marriage with  
King of Gondor Aragorn Elessar.  
  
When you have convenience for your time please be  
contacting our office and arranging speaking with  
Manwë or Eönwë on this decision making. You and  
your brother will to have until end of this year  
for choose being Elf or Mortal.  If any questions,  
we have email or also telephone at this office from  
eight until six.  
  
Please forgive us our mistakes when we write  
Sindarin. It is not usual we are using your  
language.  
  
Ingwë Orozer  
Tecar Máhanwa  
pal: 94-11-255-275  
\-----  
  
I'm divided on whether or not I believe this is actually an email from the office of Manwë.  It looks official, but then, Elrohir has been known to go way further than one might expect in his pranking.  To be safe, I forwarded copies to dad and Glorfindel to ask their opinions before I take action.  
  
Now I just know I'm going to worry about this all night.  Great.  Stupid Manwë!  
  
November 15th  
  
The first thing in my inbox was an email from dad.  
  
\-----  
From: "Elrond Peredhel" <elrond_in_eldos@ardamail.com>  
Subject: Re: Fwd: important document for reader  
  
I'd say it's legitimate, but why don't you try the  
telephone number and see what happens?  
  
Love, dad  
\-----  
  
I should have thought of that on my own.  The second email, from Glorfindel, said mainly the same thing but in slightly more detail.  
  
\-----  
From: "Finwë Lauron" <f_lauron@valinat.nat>  
Subject: Re: Fwd: important document for reader  
  
It looks real to me.  The area code on the telephone  
number is from Valmar, so if I were you, I'd try to  
communicate with them via telephone.  But get Elrohir  
to do the talking.  Nobody in Valmar can speak  
Sindarin, as you probably guessed from the email.  
  
LL  
\-----  
  
It seems as if Glorfindel is implying that my Quenya sucks.  He's right, but it still annoys me that he has the nerve to say so!  
  
November 16th  
  
Elrohir talked to this Orozer person on the phone.  I understood very little of the conversation, but it sounded about as professional as can be expected from Elrohir.  When he disconnected, he said, "Okay, Manwë's coming on Saturday so we can do our deciding thing."  
  
I feel ill.  Manwë is coming to my house.  Manwë!  My house!  My horrible, messy house with décor left over from the Second Age!  A basement full of junk!  An uninspected furnace!  MANWË!!!  On SATURDAY!!!  
  
We have some serious cleaning to do.  
  
November 18th  
  
Took yesterday and today off work to make everything nice.  Yet nothing looks clean.  Actually, the house looks worse than before.  And Manwë will be here tomorrow.  
  
The front door frame looks particularly bad, and that's going to be the first thing he sees.  People keep leaning against it with their dirty hands and mucking it up.  And the moron who painted it used eggshell paint, which grabs dirt and sucks it in like nothing else.  Even I know to use semi-gloss on doorframes and skirting boards, and I suck at everything DIY!  The dirty doorframe also led to me cleaning around the light switch, but the paint there was so filthy that the clean spot showed up loud and clear.  I ended up having to clean in a wide circle and fade out gradually, since I'm not about to take to the whole wall with a bottle of Windex Multi-Surface.  
  
I am tired and frazzled and sick of cleaning.  Elrohir is doing very little to help.  All I asked him to do was wash the lino and vacuum the living room, but I don't think he got either task done.  Right now he's in the kitchen doing shots of lemon juice.  I don't see how that's helping at all.  And yesterday I asked him to toss the pumpkins and take down the plastic pumpkin Balathin lights over the door, but he didn't do that either.  I had to do everything myself.  And I see we now have a pumpkin stain on the drapes from Sauron going mushy and collapsing sideways!  This is just great.  Now I bet Manwë's going to say we're too pathetic to be Elves, and force us into mortality.  The way things have been going, I wouldn't be surprised.  
  
To try and calm down, I rang grandpa and asked what I should do in this situation.  He's the only person I know who's been on familiar terms with one of the Ainur.  He was no help, though, because he didn't understand what I was talking about.  I had to practically scream, "MELIAN!" into the receiver before he got it.  Then all he said was, "Well, that's different, she was pretending to be a regular Elf all that time, so we treated her like one of us."  That really didn't make me feel any better.  
  
I think my only hope now is to take some sleeping pills and watch telly until I'm too stupefied to care.  
  
November 19th  
  
Manwë did not come.  Eönwë came instead.  That was a bit less stress-inducing.  Now at least I don't have to worry about Manwë noticing the peculiar smell coming from our front closet.  I'm sure Eönwë is used to peculiar smells.  He does all of Manwë's dirty work.  
  
He showed up on our front step shortly after breakfast.  I noticed, when I answered the door, that he had no car.  Do Ainur travel in vehicles?  Planes?  Or do they just randomly appear places?  Eönwë looked sort of like he'd just randomly appeared, so I wonder.  He was wearing comfortable clothing and practical shoes.  I invited him in, and Elrohir offered to make tea.  The three of us sat around the kitchen table talking about how much colder it is here than in Valmar while we drank tea and ate biscuits.  I would have offered him leftover Balathin candy, but it seems Elrohir and I ate it all some time ago.  Then it was down to business.  
  
Eönwë stated the facts, that long ago dad had been given the choice of kindreds and he chose Elves, and now we were given that same choice.  Then he went into listing the pros and cons of each race.  He talked about Elvish history, and how the Gondorian economy is doing right now, and why it's important to carefully consider all aspects of the decision before leaping into anything.  "Now I want you both to think carefully about this," he said, "because your decision will stay with you for the rest of your life.  If you need a little longer to decide..."  
  
"Elves," Elrohir and I said, quickly and at the same time.  Eönwë looked at us in surprise.  "Alright then," he said.  He punched a few keys on his Blackberry.  "I think that's everything.  You should hear from our office regarding the finalisation of this agreement by the end of next week."    
  
And that was that.  I showed Eönwë to the door, and he walked away down the driveway.  I was sort of hoping he'd poof away in a flash of light and prove my theory of random appearances, but no such luck.  He walked away like a regular person on his way to the bus stop.  How boring.  
  
I also forgot to ask why Manwë's office rang me collect.  Now I will probably never know.  
  
November 25th  
  
The following email arrived just as I was getting ready to leave work for the day:  
  
\-----  
From: "Ingwë Orozer" <ingwe.orozer@mhn.tn.gov>  
Subject: congratulations status of Elladan and Elrohir  
  
Dear masters Elladan and Elrohir Peredhel;  
  
It is very much pleasing for us to informing of you  
that you have new status of official Elf given by  
Manwë effective now. It is now open to you,  
travelling to Aman and living here when you are  
wanting. Thank you for this most quick deciding and  
choosing being one with us kindred.  
  
Ingwë Orozer  
Tecar Máhanwa  
pal: 94-11-255-275  
\-----  
  
Well.  I am now an Official Elf, authorised by Manwë.  I'm sort of disappointed they didn't send me a stamped and signed certificate of Elfness to frame and hang on my wall.  Or maybe an ID card to put in my wallet.  
  
To celebrate officially becoming Elves, Elrohir and I went out for supper to the Great Buffet of Ossiriand, affectionately known as the Grease Buffet of Ossiriand, where we filled up on cheap pseudo-Nandorin food.  Elrohir tried to get me to bet that he couldn't eat twenty spring rolls, but I know better than to bet against Elrohir's stomach.  I've seen him in action.  And even without the bet, he still ate twenty spring rolls just to prove he could, and two bowls of hot and sour soup, and a plate of ginger beef.  The Nandorin family at the next table, who had filled their plates with mashed potatoes and pizza, stared in disgust.  As expected, he sicked up in the car park on the way out.  
  
When we got home I lay in the bath for a while and tried to see if I felt any different, any more Elvish, but the only thing I noticed was that I had a slight pain in my left knee and that my toenails need clipping.  Otherwise, I appear to be the same as always.  Being an Official Manwë-Approved Elf isn't as exciting as it sounds.  
  
November 28th  
  
Nobody at work noticed or commented on my new Elf status.  I am sorely disappointed.  And nothing at all happened today, apart from the P's buzzing getting a bit louder.  I looked around for a way to disconnect it, but it is on the outside of the building and my window doesn't open, so I have no access to the stupid thing.  I hate that P.  
  
Had an email from Glorfindel containing seven words and four megs worth of pictures from Elairon's first birthday party.  Elairon wearing a paper hat, Elairon sitting in front of a cupcake, Elairon sticking his hand into the cupcake, Elairon smearing the cupcake over his hair, Elairon smearing the cupcake over Aralindë's hair, Glorfindel wiping smeared cupcake from Elairon's forehead, Elairon smearing cupcake residue onto Glorfindel's tie, Elairon having a bath in a sink full of cupcake crumb water, Elairon tearing the wrap off of presents, Elairon eating the wrap, and so on.  After twenty minutes of looking at the photos, it felt rather as if I had been there and had cupcake smeared over my own hair.  
  
Also felt like a turd for forgetting to send a present.  I will have to remember for Fiommereth.  I settled for sending him an email back telling him that Elrohir and I are now officially Elves.  Also emailed dad.  This seems like the sort of thing he'd want to know about.  
  
December 1st  
  
Now that it is December 1st, the Fiommereth season can officially start.  Now I won't mind the explosion of decorations and holiday cheer.  I didn't even mind the P so much today.  It was still buzzing, but at least on a pitch that complimented the holiday muzak coming over the office PA system.  
  
December 3rd  
  
Snow today.  I hope this stuff stays.  I suppose it's nice and seasonal that a good snow comes at the beginning of December, but I'm a bit annoyed that it chose to come on a Saturday.  I was hoping for a weekday, so I'd have an excuse to stay home from work.  "My driveway's full of snow and I can't get the car out" is a good one.  Nobody can argue with that.  It was nice to sit by the fire and eat cookies with hot chocolate, but it would have been far sweeter to know I was missing work to do so.  Oh well.  
  
December 5th  
  
Somebody decorated my office with tinsel and plastic holly over the weekend.  Granted it does look festive, but the tinsel got caught in my electric pencil sharpener this morning and created a bit of a hassle.  Also, it is hard to get anything out of my in-basket for all the sharp plastic holly leaves.  I have scratches all over my hand and wrist.  
  
After work, Elrohir and I discussed what we want to do for Fiommereth.  Elrohir wants to spend the holidays with grandpa, either here or in Lorien, since neither of us wants to go to Gondor to be with Arwen and Aragorn.  I would rather go to Lórien.  If grandpa comes here, then all the burden of preparation and food-cooking is on us.  But if we go to Lórien, we get to be the guests and have a free ride the whole time.  Elrohir agreed to go, but only if he could bring his iguana.  I pointed out that we should probably ask grandpa what his plans are.  
  
I rang him in Caras Galadhon and outlined our plan of coming to visit, and he said, "That would be very nice, Elladan, but unfortunately I've already been invited to spend Fiommereth with Thranduil in Mirkwood."  
  
Well that's just great!  Dad's not here, Erestor's not here, Glorfindel's not here, grandma's not here, and grandpa's going to be in Mirkwood!  Now Elrohir and I are going to have to spend the holidays by ourselves!  Or possibly with Lindir, but that really doesn't even warrant consideration.  He is about exciting as black socks.  I broke the news to Elrohir, and he started fussing.  He has no intention of spending Fiommereth just with me.  He was on the telephone to Legolas within five minutes, and by eight o'clock had secured us an invitation to join the festivities in the forest.  
  
I guess this means we are going to Mirkwood too.  
  
December 6th  
  
Plane fares to Mirkwood (or anywhere, really) are frightful this time of year.  It's going to cost well over a thousand dollars for two round trip tickets!  And the airline prohibits the transportation of reptiles.  Elrohir is not going to like this.  
  
We leave on the 19th at 5.15 in the morning.  Ouch.  
  
December 7th  
  
As expected, Elrohir had an enormous fuss when I told him he'd have to leave his iguana at home.  I assured him he would be able to find a competent iguana-sitter somewhere, but he said that wasn't the point.  The main problem, in his eyes, was that the iguana would be all by itself and without him on days when family and loved ones are supposed to be together.  He stroked the iguana lovingly as he said this.  It sneezed on him.  I almost said that the iguana likely can't tell the difference between him and anyone else, but I tactfully refrained.  I didn't want to make him cry.  
  
December 9th  
  
I told dad that Elrohir and I were going to be spending Fiommereth in Mirkwood, and he said, somewhat surprised, "They're letting you go?"  I had to ask what he meant by that.  He launched into a lengthy explanation of how he had never been allowed to go to Mirkwood for more than two nights in a row, due to worries over him being kidnapped by Silvan extremists and held prisoner for something.  He was too irreplaceable for something like that to happen.  I said, "Oh."  I never asked anyone if it would be alright if I went to Mirkwood.  I just assumed nobody would care.  Dad said, "You'd better discuss things with the Minister of Defence on Monday."  
  
I never should have said anything.  Now I have this to worry about all weekend!  
  
December 11th  
  
Worried all weekend about the upcoming trip to Mirkwood.  I am starting to hate being a world leader.  I have a buzzing P in my office window, and it's suddenly become a major security issue for me to leave town.  I liked it better when I was an unimportant university student.  True, the pay wasn't as good, but at least nobody cared what I did.  Except dad.  
  
I did force myself out of the house to go shopping yesterday, though.  Now I know how dad must have felt going out in public to do mundane things like Fiommereth gift buying.  Super Drug Mart was full of people who looked at me.  Before, when they didn't know who I was, they ignored me, but now that I've been on television a few times they look.  They look to see what brand of mouthwash I buy.  They look to see how many boxes of cookies I get.  They stare as I dig through the bin of three-pairs-for-$9 socks.  They openly gawk at my selection of cheap chocolates, as if to say "somebody who has been on television should buy more expensive, impressive candy".  Every time I turned around, somebody was either looking openly at me or looking at me while pretending they weren't looking at me.  
  
I picked up a book of Deluxe Fill-It-Ins, an inflatable bath pillow, and a $7 Beach Boys CD for dad.  Also a massaging car seat cover for grandpa.  I had almost gone so far as to put a bottle of multivitamins for Erestor into my basket when I realised that maybe shopping exclusively at Super Drug Mart wasn't the best idea.  So I went through the check-out, but picked up a miniature grooming kit consisting of tweezers and tiny scissors on the way.  I can give that to dad too.  His eyebrows have always been a bit out of control.  
  
Across from Super Drug Mart was PetCetera, so I went in there and bought an iguana harness and leash set for Elrohir.  Actually it was a kitten harness, but it looked about the right size for the iguana.  I asked the apathetic-looking youth who worked there if they had any iguana accessories in, and he led me to a small corner of one aisle.  I found: special tinned iguana food, a studded vinyl biker vest made for iguanas, and novelty lizard bath soap.  All of it was on clearance, so I got one of each.  Then when I thought not too many people were looking, I ducked into one of those lacy ladies' shops and bought a satin house robe for grandma.  I wasn't certain if mum and dad are back together, or if we are on family terms again, but I thought I ought to play it safe.  Bought her a pair of gel-bottom slippers, some aromatherapy candles, and a hairbrush that promotes environmental awareness.  That left only Erestor's present.  
  
I spent the rest of the afternoon lugging bags of crap from Super Drug Mart, PetCetera and the lacy lady store all over the mall, trying to find something for Erestor.  He is the most difficult person in the world to buy for.  By three o'clock I was tired and starving and just plain didn't care any more, so I went to one of those rugged men's shops (the kind that have fake screen doors covering pine tree wall murals in a hunting lodge sort of theme) and got him masculine (read: unfashionable) plaid pyjamas.  I was looked at while I did.  I wanted desperately to explain to lookers-on that the pyjamas were not for me but for my dad's illicit lover, who will hopefully wear them and therefore be decently covered in bed at all times, but I think that would have made them look even more.  
  
Couldn't handle going to the food court for a snack after that.  Couldn't handle the thought of being looked at while I ate congealing food court food.  Instead, I went back to Super Drug Mart to buy a Mars bar.  I think that place must be enchanted with some sort of consumer frenzy magic, because I left with a Mars bar, a three-roll pack of holiday foil wrap, four litres of Coke, a roll of film, and a pine-scented candle in a festive tin.  My mistake was picking up the basket at the door.  If you pick up a basket, you feel obligated to fill it with Things.  
  
When I got back home I remembered about Glorfindel, Aralindë, and Elairon.  Bugger!  I have no desire to go back to the mall any time within the next ten years, so I may just have to buy something off ebay and have it shipped to them direct.  
  
December 12th  
  
Organised a meeting with the Minister of Defence this afternoon.  I explained my plans to go to Mirkwood, and she said that should be fine, provided I a) do not travel with my deputy-PM (easily done- I don't think Lindir has ever left the city), and b) I do travel with somebody reliable who can watch out for my well-being.  I told her I would be travelling with Elrohir.  She said that was good enough.  Clearly, she has never met Elrohir.  
  
I rang dad when I got home and told him everything was arranged for my trip and there were no problems.  He sounded surprised and asked about five times if I was sure there wasn't some mistake, because they'd never have let him go.  I assured him that I am hardly as irreplaceable as he was, and that my being kidnapped by Silvan anarchists would hardly cause the government of Rivendell to collapse into chaos.  It might cause a minor fight over who got my ergonomic wheelie chair, but that's about all I can foresee.  So Mirkwood it is.  
  
December 15th   
  
Elrohir and I are torn over whether or not we should decorate the house.  On the one hand, it makes everything look nice and festive, and decorating can be fun.  On the other hand, we'll be leaving in four days and won't be here for the entire holiday stretch to enjoy our handiwork.  And we won't even be here to plug in the lights at night so the neighbours can enjoy our handiwork.  It seems like a waste of time to bother setting up all the lights and things, but at the same time it seems like a waste of tradition not to.  
  
LATER:  We compromised and did a half-arsed job decorating the front window only, with the two strings of lights that weren't tangled, and I nailed up the falling-apart old pinecone wreath.  Elrohir also set up the porcelain Valar on the shelf by the piano, and put the mechanical trouser-dropping Aulë doll on the kitchen buffet.  It took twenty minutes.  Twenty minutes is the exact right length of time to decorate.  Just long enough to be fun, not long enough to get tedious.  It's over quick so we can move on to drinking cider by the fire and playing cards.  
  
December 17th  
  
Last day of work for the year!  I was one of about three people who showed up today.  Lindir and I were the only ones on our whole floor.  We took turns riding down the disabled ramp on our wheelie chairs.  He fell off and cracked his elbow on the skirting board, but no severe damage was done.  Then, when he wasn't looking, I used the postage metre to stamp all the parcels I have to send to Valinor.  No way am I spending eighty dollars of my own money!  I know full well they're not going to get there on time (or probably even until the end of January), but I cleverly backdated the stamps to the middle of November so they'll think I remembered to send things on time and the packages were just held up in the crummy overseas postal service.  
  
By one o'clock even Lindir the model employee wanted to go home, so we decided to call it a day and headed down for drinks at the crappy little pub in the Dominion Centre.  It was packed with what looked like the entire downtown corporate sector having early post-work drinks.  The only free table we could find was directly beneath a speaker that was blaring bad country Fiommereth music.  However, it did work out well for me, because I'm sure that whatever I couldn't hear Lindir saying was no more interesting than "Ye-Haw It's Snowing".  The downside, though, is now I have that stupid song stuck in my head.  
  
When I got home, Elrohir was showing Taleryn how to properly look after the iguana while we're gone.  She yelled when it tried to climb into her hair.  Elrohir tried to say encouraging things, but I could tell from the look on his face that he was starting to regret ever having the idea of getting her to care for the iguana.  I give their relationship until the end of January at the most.  Elrohir could never seriously date anyone who didn't share his love for impractical reptilian pets.  
  
December 18th  
  
The flight tomorrow leaves at 5.15, which means we have to be checked in at 3.15, which means we have to get up at 1.30 in order to have enough time to dress, eat, drive to the airport, and find parking.  Given that I should probably have eight hours of sleep so as not to be cranky when Legolas picks us up, I ought to go to bed at 5.30, which was just over two hours ago.  Great.  I still have to finish packing.  
  
I just know this is going to be a bad, bad start to the holiday season.  I just know it.  
  
December 19th  
  
Valar save me, I am in a third world country.  I know people always make snide remarks about the quality of life in Mirkwood, but I never actually expected them to be true!  It is nine pm, and I am freezing and starving and about this close to death.  
  
My room, which is more like a prison cell (made from cinder blocks and all), has no windows, no heat, no electricity, and no running water.  There's a sink, but it doesn't work.  There's some sort of button-and-dial contraption on the wall, but I'm not sure what it does.  Heat, maybe?  Electricity?  I can't figure out how to use it.  I'm stuck with whatever battery life my computer has and the few candles I could find in my nightstand drawer.  I am wearing all the clothes I packed AND I am wrapped in the scratchy wool blankets that were on my bed, but it's no use.  I'm pretty sure the temperature in here has to be at least -20.  We've not eaten since just after noon, and even that was a substandard watery sausage soup.  
  
Also, it's no help that I'm horribly, horribly tired.  The flight was long and bumpy, and Lasgalen Airlines has cut every possible courtesy.  I had nothing to drink or eat and couldn't rent a pillow the whole way because they don't accept Rivendell dollars and I didn't think to go to the currency exchange at the airport.  I couldn't understand the safety features of the aircraft presentation because the flight attendant had such a bad Silvan accent.  I couldn't get my seat to recline, and Elrohir couldn't get his to go back up after he finally got it down.  They lost Elrohir's luggage, though I'm not sure how that's possible, as we checked our bags at the exact same time and mine arrived without incident.  Actually the suitcase had a big oil stain down one side, but at least it was present and in one piece.  Also, nobody bothered to tell me that there isn't actually any airport in Mirkwood.  Apparently they share an airport with Dale, and it's an hour south-east in the middle of nowhere.  Aggravation abounds.  
  
I'm pretty sure I'm going to die tonight.  Dad was right.  I never should have come here.  Why are parents always right?  And why do children never listen to them?


	24. Rivendell Nine to Five: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

December 20th  
  
I didn't die.  
  
Just before ten, Legolas came to fetch me for supper.  He walked in on me huddled on my bed in the cold and dark, clinging desperately to the friendly glow of the computer screen, and asked me why I hadn't turned on the lights and heat.  I told him I didn't know how.  He went over to the box on the wall with all the knobs and dials, fiddled with a few things, and there was light!  Then something started whirring, and he said there was heat!  He showed me how to work both things.  There is no central heating here, only an electric wall heater, so I have to remember to turn it on and off manually.  The light controls are on the same unit as the heating panel.  Nothing is marked, so I'm not sure how I'll remember it, but at least I know now that I won't die.  And I may not be in a third world country after all.  It's only second world.  
  
I asked him if there were any outlets where I could plug in the computer, and he showed me these weird holes in the wall that I originally thought were for ventilation purposes.  Maybe because they had cold air coming through them.  But Legolas explained that the cold air was only due to poor insulation (as if there's any insulation in this place!), and that the holes were indeed power outlets.  I think I'm going to need an adaptor.  I'll get him to take me shopping tomorrow.  I also asked him if he could make my sink work, but he said no, it was just plain broken.  I have to use the communal sink in the bathroom down the corridor.  
  
Then we went for supper.  I guess people in Mirkwood eat supper very late, because it was nearly ten thirty by the time we sat down.  We had: some weird stew, mashed vegetable (I couldn't tell if it was potato, turnip, or something else I've never heard of), abnormally long green beans, cabbage, and a pudding-like thing with bland, creamy sauce on it.  Thranduil kept trying to talk at me while I ate, but I was so tired I couldn't manage anything more than an occasional yes-I'm-still-paying-attention nod.  Eventually he gave up and talked at grandpa instead.  Grandpa's been here four days and already looks like he regrets ever thinking Fiommereth in Mirkwood could be a good idea.  The electric wall heater in his room doesn't work, so he has a plug-in unit.  It buzzes loudly.  I know exactly how annoying that can be, having lived with a buzzing P in my office for six weeks.  
  
I fell asleep as soon as I got back to my (slightly warmer than before) room, but woke up at quarter after five this morning because my sleeping schedule is all screwed up.  There was nothing better to do, and I couldn't fall back asleep, so I bundled up in the least itchy wool blanket and went to sit by the electric heater and read.  I stayed there until seven, when I went to find Elrohir.  He was sitting on the floor in his room by his heater, reading a comic.  Legolas was with him.  Legolas explained that it's a tradition among Mirkwood youth to turn on the electric wall heater after getting up of a morning and read a while before breakfast.  I have accidentally participated in a special Mirkwood family tradition.  Legolas also said that when he used to share a room with his brother, they'd fight over who got the better spot on the floor.  That was also a tradition.  I couldn't argue with that, so I shoved Elrohir out of the way and made myself comfortable by his electric heater, itchy blanket wrapped snugly around me.   I must admit, it was rather satisfying in a rustic sort of way.  I'll have to invite grandpa to join us tomorrow.  
  
After breakfast (Frosted Flakes- I was almost hoping for something more ethnic, but not really), we sat around by the heaters some more until we were warm enough to do things.  Then we sat around by the heaters longer because there was nothing to do.  Then we watched television.  It was mostly reality shows and low-budget movie-of-the-weeks.  After lunch (fried pork in some weird white sauce that tasted a bit like yoghurt) I decided to have a shower, but that was a mistake.  The water pressure here might as well be non-existent.  It took me twenty minutes to wash the first shampoo out of my hair.  I didn't bother doing a second, and used a minimal amount of conditioner.  I think I'm going to have baths from now on.  I can't spare forty minutes each day to shower.   
  
Actually I can, because there's nothing to do here apart from sit around by the electric wall heaters, but I just don't want to.  
  
We spent some more time in the afternoon around the heater, then watched more television, and then Elrohir had the bright idea of hauling Legolas' small television into the bedroom so we could watch reality shows while sitting around the heater.  We did that until supper time.  My eyes sort of hurt now.  But at least that's one day wasted.  Only thirteen left to go.  I am looking forward to the flight back to Rivendell on January 3rd so much it isn't funny.  
  
December 21st  
  
Today at one o'clock Thranduil came in, turned our electric heater off, and insisted we go do something.  In particular, he wanted Legolas to go to the market and buy some special holiday foods.  Elrohir and I had to go with him by default, as he is our trusted guide in this strange place.  We got dressed, shovelled the snow and ice away from the garage door, and drove to the market in a very small car that I'm pretty sure was made of fibreglass.  That can't be safe.  
  
The market was down a narrow, tree-lined street.  Everything here is down a narrow, tree-lined street.  I can't tell one from another.  I'm not sure how Legolas can.  We finally wound up parked haphazardly in the middle of a square, surrounded by other small fibreglass cars stuck at odd angles.  Legolas explained that Mirkwood car parks have no order, that everyone just parks where they fit in the big jumble of cars, and woe to whomever is stuck in the middle of the mess because they're not getting out any time soon.  Then we walked down some narrow streets to the outdoor market.  
  
Really, only a completely brainless culture would think of having an outdoor market in the middle of winter in a climate that boasts the most snowfall and coldest temperatures of all non-mountain regions.  The whole market was full of vendors wearing furry parkas so huge that they ceased to look like Elves and almost looked more like bears.  We could tell they were Elves, though, by the way they were sitting around their portable electric heaters in their little vendor tents.  They were all selling various seasonal products, from baking to ornaments to roasted nuts.  Elrohir bought a newspaper cone full of the roasted nuts, and we were both highly disappointed to discover they had a taste and texture very similar to potatoes, only less good.  Legolas bought a bag of cookies, some odd-looking fruitcake loaves, a few bottles of a wine-type drink, a sack of holly leaves, some hard candy, and a large braided bread.  I wanted to buy some little wooden ornaments, but I couldn't because I've still not gone to the currency exchange and the ornament vendors didn't take Visa.  
  
When we were done at the market, I made Legolas drive me to a store that did take Visa, so I could buy an outlet adaptor.  After we waited around in the car park for an hour until the jackass blocking our way out saw fit to move his stupid fibreglass car, that is.  
  
We made frozen pizza for supper, because Thranduil and his wife had taken grandpa out cross country skiing and there was no grand eating plan.  We ate it while sitting around the heater in Legolas' room.  
  
December 22nd  
  
Legolas' older brother, Glorion, and his wife, Lerael, arrived today.  They live in Belfalas and have a small son who is ten months old.  I'm not sure what his name is, since they only ever call him "Baby".  He is just starting to walk and talk.  I can see how this is going to get annoying very quickly.  
  
Glorion owns condo complexes in Belfalas.  He wears suits and ties around the house, all the time, even while watching telly.  He reads the financial section of the newspaper.  I dislike him already.  I also dislike Lerael, mostly because her name sounds too similar to Legolas' mum's name (Liril), and she always assumes everybody's trying to talk to her when they say "Liril", which makes no sense.  Why would I want to ask her were the spare toilet roll is kept?  But mostly I dislike Baby.  The second most annoying thing about him is that he poops all over the floor.  The most annoying thing is that Glorion and Lerael don't care.  They do not believe in diapers, so instead they let Baby wander around with no bottoms on so he can go whenever he wants, wherever he wants, and they clean it up.  But not always right away.  
  
So at dinner today, in the middle of some bland sausage soup, Baby came toddling over to Glorion's chair and whispered, "Oos."  This, I have learned, means, "I pooped."  Glorion picked him up, wiped his bum with a paper napkin, put the napkin back onto the table, and continued eating!  None of the Mirkwood folk seemed to even notice, but grandpa looked horrified, and rightly so!  Even Elrohir wrinkled his nose, and he is usually in favour of all ideas of the zany, preposterous, impractical, or just plain stupid variety.  We had to sit through the rest of dinner with the smell of poo wafting through the air.  Baby had done his business right by one of the electric wall heaters.  
  
When the airport rang to say they had located Elrohir's luggage and we could either come collect it or wait and have it couriered to us tomorrow, I was all for driving out to get it.  Two hours out of the house and away from Glorion's family is not something I'm about to turn down, even if it is two hours spent on the highway to and from the airport.  
  
After the airport, I made Legolas take me shopping.  Mostly because I just wanted to stay away from the house, but also because I figured I should probably buy presents for everyone.  Legolas helped me.  We bought:  
  
*Scratch-and-win lotto tickets for Glorion and Lerael.  I feel obliged to get them something, but at the same time, I don't care enough to get them something good.  Also threw in a plastic rattle toy shaped like a strawberry for Baby.  It makes a terrible grating sound when shaken.  My wish is for it to thoroughly get on Glorion and Lerael's nerves.  
  
*Ski wax for Thranduil.  Legolas assured me this is what he wants.  I'm a bit uncertain, but who am I to argue?  Legolas probably knows what his dad wants.  Probably.  But then as we walked past an apothecary I saw a big cardboard display of some amazing new product that's supposed to cure muscle pain, so I picked up a bottle of that.  From what I remember of Thranduil, he loves any and all random pharmaceuticals with the words "NEW!" and "As seen on TV!" embossed on the label.  
  
*Slippers for Thranduil's mum.  Who doesn't want slippers?  And they were cheap.  If I did the currency conversion right.  
  
*One of those crappy ocean sounds relaxation CDs and a bottle of calming aromatherapy oil for Liril.  She seems like the type who would use such things.  I'm always seeing her take anti-stress pills.  
  
*Bath stuff for Legolas' sisters.  Only had to buy four perfumy gift baskets, since the oldest one is staying with her uni boyfriend in Lórien this year.  
  
*A gift card to a DVD store for Legolas.  He was watching while I bought his present.  Actually, he told me what to get for him.  He promised to look surprised when he opens it.  That's good enough for me.   
  
We got back home just in time to visit for a while before supper, and by "visit" I mean "listen to Thranduil, Glorion, and grandpa argue about politics".  Thranduil is a socialist.  Glorion is a capitalist.  Grandpa is somewhere in the middle.  They can't agree on anything.  Mostly just Thranduil and Glorion yell at each other, but sometimes grandpa interjects with something neither of them care about.  The visit ended with Glorion storming off when Thranduil accused him of being Noldorin, and Thranduil yelling after him that, "Anyone who thinks like that is the cause of all the problems in this world!"  Glorion, Lerael, and Baby went out for supper.  As an appreciative gesture, I made a point of sitting by Thranduil as we ate and pretending to be interested in what he had to say.  That took some effort.  He was complaining about faulty stringing on a generic hired badminton racquet he was forced to use at the Court Club this afternoon when he forgot his own, and how it caused him to ruin a twenty-nine game winning streak against the chief of police.  
  
December 23rd  
  
Glorion and Thranduil have made up.  I was hoping Glorion would be angry enough to stay distant for at least a few days, or maybe even go home, but the rift only lasted until shortly after breakfast this morning.  
  
Thranduil was by the back door, bending down to tie up his ski boots.  Glorion was leaning against the kitchen archway, looking surly.  Baby had just escaped from his mother's watchful eye and was tearing around the place as fast as his legs could carry him.  He ran right up to hunched-over Thranduil, smacked him on the bottom, and yelled, "BUM!"  
  
Glorion applauded.  "Bum" was a new word for Baby.  And Thranduil, proud to be the teacher of this new word, was laughing and reminiscing with Glorion within seconds.  
  
I didn't stay around for the celebration.  I talked Legolas and Elrohir into going to a movie.  Baking a cake in honour of a small child learning to say "bum" isn't really my idea of a good time.  Also, Baby looked like he was in a pooping mood.  
  
December 24th  
  
Legolas and Elrohir are perpetually in trouble.  Glorion snitched to Liril this morning that they were up to no good, and she discovered them in a bathroom, decorating themselves with permanent marker.  Elrohir has "FLAMING BEE" written across his back.  Legolas' chest says "BOOTY CLUB".  
  
As punishment, Elrohir had to help Thranduil's mum peel approximately seven million potatoes for the big community supper tomorrow.  Legolas was sent out to get the tree.  I was a bit surprised to hear this, since I thought Fiommereth trees were a Noldorin tradition, but Thranduil yelled at me for being stupid and corrected my misconception.  Decorated trees, he claims, are actually a Sindarin tradition from their old pre-colonial winter festival.  In those days, people put presents on the tree, and strings of berries and cookies.  The invading Noldor stole the tradition, altered it so the tree represented one of the Two Trees of Valmar, and then proceeded to ruin everything else about the celebration.  For my ignorance, I was sentenced to go help Legolas get the tree.  I tried to point out to Thranduil that I am now a respected world political figure, and he can't just boss me around like a little kid, but he didn't seem to care.  I had to help Legolas get the tree.  
  
Getting a tree in Mirkwood is way more of an ordeal than getting a tree in Rivendell.  In Rivendell, we drive to a tree lot in a shopping mall car park, fork over too much money, and the hardest part is getting the tree bungeed onto the roof of the car.  In Mirkwood, getting the tree involves bundling up in so many layers of winter clothes you can hardly move, finding the rusty old saw under a pile of extension cords and dirty plant pots in the garage, wading out through knee-deep snow, and finding the one reasonable tree in the middle of the forest to cut down and haul home.  It took us six hours.  Finding a tree of the proper size and shape was the hardest part.  Legolas was far too picky.  I'm not sure why he said no to the one with two tops.  Apart from having two tops, it was completely fine.  
  
Once we found the perfect tree, or as perfect as we could find, we had to saw it down with a blade that really didn't work too well.  It worked even less well in our frozen, mittened hands.  Dragging it home wouldn't have been too bad if we hadn't already been exhausted from trudging through the snow and so cold we couldn't feel our legs.  I could have punched Elrohir, waving cheerfully to us from his stool in the nice warm kitchen as we hauled the tree inside.  The most dangerous thing that happened to him all day was a piece of potato skin falling into his lap and making a starch stain.  
  
We set up the tree in Thranduil's crappy aluminium tree stand (I think it must be a Fiommereth tradition worldwide to have to wrestle with tree stands that don't work properly) while Liril and Thranduil unpacked the decorations.  I can't even begin to describe how relieved I was to learn Mirkwood trees don't have minilights on them.  After my experience with the string of mini-unlights, I was beginning to get an unpleasant churning sensation in my stomach at the thought of Thranduil criticising my inexpert lighting abilities.  
  
Now that I've very thoroughly experienced both cultures, I think I can safely say that the only similarities between a Rivendell tree and a Mirkwood tree are as follows:  
1) The tree is an evergreen.  
2) It is put into a precariously tippy metal stand.  
  
Apart from having no minilights, Mirkwood trees are also devoid of all shiny gold and silver plastic crap.  Most importantly, this means no tinsel to stick to everything and cause a huge mess.  I like Mirkwood trees a lot better already (apart from the bit about going out into the forest in the middle of a blizzard to saw them down).  All the decorations are carved, painted wood, in the shape of toys, food, children, animals, snowflakes, and other wholesome things.  Trying to make up for my earlier ignorance, I asked Thranduil if the little wooden doll and drum ornaments were meant to represent actual gifts that would have been placed on the tree in earlier times, and he said yes, now I was catching on to things.  As a reward, he told me I could be the first one to string a cookie onto the long thread to wrap around the tree.  
  
Putting cookies onto thread is a lot harder than it sounds.  First, the cookies are tiny, about the size of my fingernail.  Second, they are very brittle.  I broke four trying to pierce them with the oversize needle before I finally managed to get one onto the thread.  The plus side to this, though, is that we got to eat all the broken cookie halves.  And they're damn tasty.  We started with an enormous bowl full of cookies, and ended up with a whole ten feet of widely spaced, useable cookied thread.  This was probably because we were all eating cookies that weren't even broken.  I know I was.  I couldn't help myself.  I had a stomach ache from eating so many, but it was impossible to stop.  I swear those things are addictive (even though they look like dog food).  
  
Thranduil wrapped the ten-foot cookie thread around the middle of the tree and pronounced the evening's celebrations officially started.  Liril brought out a tray of mugs filled with hot spiced wine, Thranduil's mum brought out a selection of more cookies, cakes, and breads, and we all proceeded to get a bit tipsy and silly.  Disaster almost happened when Baby tried to pull the tree down to reach the cookie string, but luckily Liril caught him in time.  The tree did start to lean dangerously to the left because of him.  We couldn't get the stupid stand straight again, so Thranduil had to tie it up to the overhead track lighting with some fishing line.  
  
Around what should have been supper time (though there was no supper, as we were all far too full on cookies), people started showing up at the door to sing.  Thranduil gave them cookies.  I don't know where all the cookies were coming from, but it looked like Thranduil's mum must have been baking all year to produce that many.  I also don't know where all the wine was coming from.  I don't remember ever refilling my mug, but it was always full somehow.  Holiday magic, I guess.  
  
The uncontrolled revelry went on until midnight.  Then, when the singers had all gone home and the cookies had all somehow been eaten (I lost count of how many I had), we sat around by the tippy tree and exchanged gifts.  I got:  
  
*An incredibly soft and fuzzy pair of pyjamas from Elrohir.  
*An electronic daytimer from grandpa.  
*A gift card for a DVD store from Legolas.  (I told him what to get me, too.)  
*A book about outdoor fitness from Thranduil and Liril.  
*A bag of the tiny, addictive cookies from Thranduil's mum.  
*Socks, crossword puzzle books, a calendar, and a family pack of Smarties from Legolas' various sisters.  
*Lotto tickets from Glorion and Lerael. (Who the hell do they think they are, giving me such a cop-out gift?!)  
  
There was some photo-taking, and some more singing, and more eating even though we were already stuffed, and Baby (who was tired and owly by this point) had a temper tantrum in the middle of the used giftwrap pile because Thranduil accidentally dropped a warm cheese puff onto his head.  Lerael accused Thranduil of being careless around children.  Thranduil retorted that the safety of his children was the most important thing in the world, only he gesticulated a bit too wildly, and Legolas, who had the unfortunate timing to lean down right then to pick up the dropped cheese puff, got smacked in the eye.  Glorion started laughing and pointing out Thranduil's numerous flaws, Thranduil started swearing at him, and Liril chose this perfect moment to announce that she's pregnant.  
  
Everyone in the room immediately shut up, and sat where they were, stunned.  Everyone, that is, except Thranduil, who started cheering.  He flung his arms out as a grand celebratory gesture, and promptly knocked over a candle, which in turn knocked over a cup of hot wine.  It spilt all down Baby's front.  The temper tantrum resumed.  Lerael started to have a temper tantrum of her own.  Thranduil was too busy kissing Liril to notice.  Unlike most people who have been married longer than I've been alive, they have no shame, and their kissing involves all kind of slimy things and groping parts that are more appropriate for a porno movie than a holiday family gathering.  I was really, really relieved when Legolas tugged on my sleeve and asked if Elrohir and I wanted to go watch television in his room and escape the gong show.  We left Baby howling, Lerael raging, Glorion complaining, and Thranduil working his hand up Liril's skirt at a steady rate.  Grandpa was pretending to be asleep in the rocking chair by the fire.  I don't blame him.  
  
So now I'm sitting on Legolas' bed and eating some chocolate-covered biscuits we lifted from the pantry (I'm not sure why, because I'm not the least bit hungry, but I can't seem to stop).  Legolas and Elrohir are watching the Telerin game show channel, on which contestants are trying to jump off a springboard and land on a giant inflatable mushroom.  The other channels only have sappy old black and white holiday movies, so the choice is limited.  
  
I am wearing my new pyjamas, and they really are hazardously fuzzy.  I keep rubbing my arms just to feel the fuzz.  Legolas keeps rubbing me, too.  He says he can't help it, due to the overwhelming fuzziness, but I'm suspicious.  He could always rub my arms or knees instead of my thighs and bum.  
  
It makes me ashamed of myself that I haven't asked him to stop.  
  
December 25th  
  
I didn't really get to sleep last night.  I mean, I did sleep, but not in any significant way.  
  
I remember that after about two hours of Telerin game shows, Elrohir switched to the Vanyarin game show channel, which isn't as physically hilarious but is for the most part equally bizarre.  Only there weren't any Vanyarin game shows on.  They had been pre-empted for some kind of charity telethon.  The charity telethon was hosted by Glorfindel.  
  
I don't think there are adequate words to describe how very odd it was to be sitting in Mirkwood at three in the morning, watching Glorfindel on television from a different continent.  He was walking around some run-down huts in a hot, dry place (probably Valmar), talking about how your donation of only thirty dollars a month can help feed hungry children.  Or something like that.  It was all in Quenya and sort of hard to understand, but I'm sure that was the gist of it.  His message was undermined, though, by repetition of the same shots of bored-looking women in dirty shawls holding a fat baby.  It probably would have been more effective to show a skinny baby that wasn't struggling to escape.  
  
Elrohir tried to ring the toll-free number to pledge a one-time amount of seven dollars, but was told by a Quenya-speaking robot that the charity was not equipped to accept overseas donations.  By this time he was tired and ornery enough that having a robot tell him he couldn't send seven dollars to a fat Vanyarin baby made him really mad.  We quickly decided that the only reasonable course of action would be to ring Glorfindel and complain.  
  
We had to do this from Thranduil's office.  Thranduil is terrified of long distance telephone charges, and has his whole place rigged so that only no-charge numbers can be dialled.  The only way to telephone long distance is to go through his computer.  This is about when I should have started to suspect that one thing could very easily and very quickly lead to another, and before long, we would certainly be up to no good.  Should have, but didn't.  
  
We turned on the modem, turned on the computer, and ate some toffees from a bowl on his desk while waiting for everything to load.  I had time for three toffees, since Thranduil has his computer set so that about fifteen programs load at startup.  We had to wait for everything from Outlook to Kodak Camera Centre.  Once it was good to go, we were about to close Outlook and telephone Glorfindel on Skype, but a new mail message popped up just in time.  The mail was from Glorfindel, with the subject line, "NINJA ATTACK!".  Legolas opened it before I could tell him it probably wasn't a good idea.  My mouth was too full of toffee.  
  
The email's text said, inexplicably, "Ninjas, like their primitive ancestral forefathers, are still roaming at large to devour your crops, challenge your livestock, and confuse your attractive streetwalkers with the art of indecent dance."  Attached were three photos of Glorfindel with a red sash tied around his head, wearing a cheap printed kimono and flipflops.  In the first photo, he was cramming grapes into his mouth, and in the second, he was posing menacingly toward a toy monkey.  In the third, his kimono had slipped off one shoulder, and he had adopted a disco-like stance as Aralindë (who was wearing a miniskirt with fishnet tights, and far too much makeup) looked on in exaggerated horror.  
  
The three of us stared in shock for a good few minutes.  Then Elrohir broke the silence by saying, "What the hell?!"  Legolas and I could only nod in agreement.  We looked over the pictures again, read the message again, and noticed the email had also been sent to dad, Erestor, Círdan, grandma, grandpa, and some names I didn't recognise.  After another minute of silence, Legolas noticed that there were other attachment messages from Glorfindel in Thranduil's inbox.  He opened one.  Then another.  Then all of them.  We stared in disbelief at pictures of Glorfindel pretending to be a Tiki man, Glorfindel being attacked by a plastic dinosaur, Glorfindel wearing a wig made out of dryer lint, Glorfindel posing nude behind a strategically placed frond, Glorfindel being a zombie, and so on.  After more bizarre pictures of Glorfindel than I ever needed to see in my life, Elrohir pointed out that there were similar attachment messages from Thranduil in the "sent" folder.  Thranduil bending to touch his elbow to his heel, sticking a carrot up his nose, sitting cross-legged on the toilet, being hit in the bum with a promotional X-Box foam ball, drinking a glass of vinegar, putting a fake moustache on a cactus, and so on.  There were hundreds of these messages, some dating back years.  We had unwittingly stumbled across some kind of Twilight Zone photo exchange club.  
  
The madness should have ended there.  The three of us were too disoriented by the evidence of perfectly boring adults doing such silly things to say or do anything more, so it was an ideal opportunity to just go to bed quietly.  And we probably would have, if Glorfindel hadn't sent us an instant message.  
  
Legolas was dumb enough to answer it.  Then we were stuck pretending to be Thranduil for the next hour while Glorfindel wrote miles of inane comments about himself, his family, his car, his new condo, his loud neighbour, the statue down the street, the weather, weed, public transportation, pigeons, his hair, his wardrobe, recreational drugs, and whatever else popped into his head.  Elrohir asked what the deal was with the charity, and Glorfindel said (in a long roundabout way that included a lengthy digression about falafels and sesame seeds) that the expense to allow overseas donations was greater than their likely overseas profit, given that the show only aired in Quenya and most of the eastern population likely didn't understand.  Then we asked why he showed such a fat baby when a skinny one clearly would have been more heartbreaking.  He informed us that the fat baby was Elairon.  
  
Elrohir accused him of lying, and being high, and being a high liar.  That sent him into another long explanation (including a digression about daylight savings time) of how poor and ignorant Vanyarin women, such as the kind he wanted to be in his show, refuse to be videotaped because they consider such things to be worse than prostitution.  When they told Glorfindel and his film crew this, he had the bright idea to hire actual prostitutes at ACTRA union wage. So Elrohir was devastated to learn that the women in dirty shawls were prostitutes paid to look like wholesome beggars, and that the fat baby was just Elairon.  I think this might put a damper on his enthusiasm for Vanyarin culture.  Also for charitable giving.  It'll be a long time before he's able to trust again.  
  
We excused ourselves from the IM session as soon as was reasonably possible, which wasn't very soon at all.  It took our overtired minds a good long while to think up a Thranduilish enough excuse as to why we had to go to bed, and in the end we told Glorfindel we had to get back to the television in order to tape a Dr. Who marathon that started in five minutes.  I'm pretty sure he knew we were giving him the brush-off.  He'll probably be mad at Thranduil next time they talk.  Oh well.  We went to bed with no more thoughts on that matter.  Only when I got to my bed, it was ice cold because I'd forgotten to turn on the electric wall heater to warm up the room.  I grabbed my pillow and a blanket and went to go join Legolas.  I guess Elrohir had the same idea, because at seven this morning, a full two hours after we went to sleep, we all woke up in the same bed.  
  
We only woke up because Thranduil was yelling at us that it was time to participate in something dumb.  And by "something dumb" I mean, "The Community Association Winter Festival".  He promised it would be a grand time, with sledding, skating, skiing, cider, snowball fights, prizes, a bonfire, and all kinds of good things.  He said we were all signed up for the cross country ski race.  I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, sure that this was some annoying dream, but it didn't work.  An hour and a half later, I was outside in a borrowed snow suit, leaning against my ski poles wishing like nothing else that I was back in Rivendell where I could have stayed in bed until three if I wanted.  
  
The ski race is the main event in this winter festival.  Every year, over five hundred people gather to race Thranduil around a sixty kilometre course through the woods.  Anyone who beats his time gets entered in a draw for a big prize, like a fibreglass car or something.  I could have told him right off the start that Elrohir, Legolas and I (or at least Elrohir and I- I have no idea what Legolas' skiing abilities are) would have absolutely no chance whatsoever of winning that car, so we might as well just sit in the Community Cabin and eat stew, but he said we had to at least try because there were news crews about to videotape the awesome power of the Prime Minister of Rivendell trying to out-ski the King of Mirkwood.  So not only do I get to make a fool of myself trying to ski sixty kilometres in a bright orange snow suit, I get to do it live on the air!  Brilliant.  This is just what my political career needs.  I bet the unscrupulous Mirkwood networks will sell their footage to the A-Channel, too, just so everyone back home can see what a national embarrassment I am.  
  
I was about to slink off into the stew line while rehearsing my excuse ("What?  The race started without me?  Well darn, that's disappointing."), but a rogue news crew trapped me by the Port-A-Johns and started asking about my chances in the upcoming race.  I said, truthfully, "I'll be happy if I can do it in less than ten hours."  Then they asked me how I was enjoying my visit to Mirkwood so far.  I don't remember what I said.  I hope it was at least partially intelligent.  
  
The news crew followed me to the starting gate.  I was unable to escape the watchful lens of their camera.  I lined up with Legolas and Elrohir, adjusted my scarf, and tried not to do anything too embarrassing (like scratch my bum or fall over) while the news vultures were there.  Then with the loud honk of an air horn, the race began.  Hotshots like Thranduil in neon spandex racing suits and wraparound sunglasses took off at a world cup pace.  Duds like me in snowsuits and knit hats slogged along at the back.  I was tired within two minutes.  After five, we took our first break, lying in the snow under a fir tree.  Thereafter, we took breaks every ten minutes, and were soon the very last people in the race.  
  
After two kilometres I had to eat my first energy bar, the chocolate one.  After three kilometres, my water bottle was empty.  After four kilometres, when I was sure for the second time this holiday season that I was going to die in Mirkwood, a miracle happened, and Elbereth answered the prayers I didn't even know I had made.  Elrohir had a ski malfunction.  One of the screws on his binding came out, and the binding began to wobble.  This happened, conveniently about twenty metres away from the place where the trail forks off into a secondary path called "Chicken's Choice".  It was the short (ha!) eleven kilometre loop for those who felt they couldn't do the whole sixty.  We had a legitimate excuse for taking it.  The referee at the check point still looked at us disparagingly, though.  
  
Halfway between kilometres five and six, the second screw came out of Elrohir's binding.  We had to slow down even more, so he could wobble along behind us with one foot constantly pivoting sideways off his ski.  Almost two hours had passed since the start of the race when we finally intersected with the tail end of the main trail and made it to the Bonfire Rest Stop at kilometre seven (kilometre fifty-six of the long loop).  We were the first ones there.  The referee looked so impressed and pleased that dear Legolas was ahead of his father for the first time ever that we couldn't tell him about the short cut.  We let him give us free cocoa, and we sat around the bonfire for a while eating the rest of our energy bars (peanut butter flavour, completely frozen from being in the uninsulated pocket of my borrowed snow suit).  I almost fell asleep leaning on Legolas' shoulder.  I can't remember ever having felt that exhausted in my life.  And there were four kilometres left on the vile ski trail.  
  
Kilometre nine saw the third and final screw falling out of Elrohir's binding.  He tried continuing on with only one ski, but his foot kept sinking down through sixteen inches of snow, and forward movement was impossible.  We had to dig around for ten minutes, freezing our fingers, before Legolas found the screw and somehow fixed it back on with a luggage key he luckily had in his pocket.  By this time, the first few of the neon spandex speed demons were starting to zip past us.  I don't think any of them was Thranduil.  Good thing, too, because he probably would have died of shame not only to see us pawing up the track, looking for a lone screw, but knowing that we took the Chicken's Choice route.  
  
The time stamped on our participation cards as we reached the finish line was four hours and twelve minutes, almost two hours behind the fastest posted time.  Twelve people beat Thranduil's time of two hours and forty-one minutes.  I didn't notice him passing us, but then, everybody looks the same while wearing a hideous neon spandex sports suit.  Sure enough, when we went to get in the stew line for a chance to eat something warm while sitting down in the Community Cabin, Thranduil was right there to yell at us for taking the cheap way out.  I had to explain in my most pathetic voice about Elrohir's broken ski.  Elrohir had to show him the ski as evidence.  Thranduil was forced to agree that no, we didn't have a choice in the matter, but he did forbid us from collecting participation medals on account of how we didn't ski the whole sixty kilometre loop.  I really didn't give a toss.  All I wanted was a bowl of stew.  Which I had, in the Cabin, sitting by the electric heater vent.  
  
Elrohir and I found grandpa in the Cabin.  He'd been hiding out in the volunteer bathroom all morning, just in case Thranduil decided he did have to ski after all.  I asked him what excuse he'd used, and he said he couldn't go skiing for the very practical reason that there's no snow in Lórien, and he didn't know how.  For good measure, he also kept complaining about how much his knee hurt.  I wish I'd thought of that.  My knee really did hurt, but it was because I'd just been forced to ski eleven kilometres.  
  
I didn't stick around for the big celebration supper or any of the other festivities.  As soon as Legolas was done his royal duties of important stuff like drawing the name of the winner of the fibreglass car out of a big purple plastic clown head (the winner turned out to be some nutsack in blindingly bright neon spandex), I discretely informed him that we were leaving.  He had no choice in the matter.  We went to tell Elrohir, but he looked like he was having too much fun on the sledding hill with little kids stuffing snow down his parka, so we opted to sneak away without him.  I was glad the news crews had finally decided to leave me alone.  After my disastrous ski, they knew I wasn't worth the effort.  They were interviewing grandpa about his knee pain instead.  
  
Legolas and I made it all the way to the car park before we were accosted.  Not by Thranduil or a news crew, but by old university acquaintances come back to haunt me at a very inopportune moment.  Talathuir and Nova.  I'd forgotten about him and had been trying not to remember her.  I had to stop and have a brief and awkward conversation with them while Legolas warmed up the car.  
  
They're getting married this spring, on a couples cruise to Tol Eressëa, and are spending their last Fiommereth in Middle-earth in Mirkwood of all places, with his aunt.  They asked me what I was doing now, and I asked them what they were doing until their cruise wedding.  They still live in the Grey Havens, where Talathuir fixes computers and Nova sells orthopaedic shoes at a store frequented by people like grandpa.  I told them I'm the Prime Minister of Rivendell, about to get into a cold fibreglass car with the Prince of Mirkwood.  Then they told me the funny story of how they got together.  Turns out Talathuir's old girlfriend dumped him on the same day Elrohir dumped Nova, and they went to the pub together the next night out of mutual self-pity.  They've been together ever since.  Something seemed a bit odd with this scenario.  An uncomfortable pause dragged on until I said, "Well, we're just heading out."  They said, "Right, see you," and promised to send me a clever postcard from Aman.  I didn't tell them to look for Elrohir on the sledding hill, as I'm sure that would have only caused a conflict.  
  
Legolas drove home in tired silence.  He looked sort of like a zombie.  I felt sort of like a zombie.  We listened to bad classic rock on the radio and didn't even care.  When we got back to the house, which seemed strangely empty, he asked if I was hungry, then asked if I liked Nandorin food.  I answered yes to both questions.  He wanted to know what I liked best, and I told him hot and sour soup and pan fried dumplings, figuring we'd probably order in so we could eat greasy goodness while sitting like zombie lumps in front of the television.  But the weirdo proceeded to get a bunch of things out of the fridge and pantry, and make hot and sour soup and pan fried dumplings!  From scratch, without a recipe!  It was sort of like he knew what he was doing.  The end result was some of the best soup I've ever had, and a plate of damn good dumplings.  I never even suspected Legolas could cook interesting food.  I mean, I've seen him screw up Kraft Dinner.  This shook my whole axis of perception.  I may have to re-evaluate the universe.  
  
I ate two bowls of soup and seventeen dumplings.  We're now sort of watching television, indeed like zombie lumps, unable to move.  I'm beyond the point of ultimate tiredness, where I'm no longer tired in a sleepy way, but am completely unable to do anything but stare meaninglessly at the computer screen and poke a few keys every now and again.  I should really go to bed.  
  
Or else I could just sit here and stare at Legolas for a while.  


	25. Rivendell Nine to Five: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous AU in which Rivendell bears a striking resemblance to modern day Calgary, Alberta. Elladan's journal records his daily life, beginning the summer before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed. Implied and non-graphic sexuality, both slash and het. Newest chapter: Haldir is introduced to Thranduil as a potential new best friend, Elrohir winds up in a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance, and Elladan poses for campaign photos after being forced into running in the upcoming election.

December 26th  
  
Grandpa has had enough of Mirkwood.  He's scheduled to stay until January 3rd, but I don't think he'll make it that long.  He's already complaining that he wants to go home.  Tomorrow.  
  
Thranduil is, of course, disappointed.  He had this big idea in mind that he could get grandpa to do all kinds of amazing things, like skiing and winter camping and badminton at the court club and helping decide what kind of new garage door to buy.  Never mind that grandpa is no good at all of those things; he never participates in sports or recreational activities, and he's had the same ugly garage door since forever.  
  
So Legolas and I have decided that Thranduil needs a new friend, now that Glorfindel has moved to Valinor and he doesn't have anybody to pester any more.  Somebody who likes outdoorsy things, like hunting and camping and garage hardware.  Unfortunately, I don't know anybody like that, and neither does Legolas.  We were considering the eventuality that we might have to hold auditions for Thranduil's new buddy when Elrohir suggested Haldir.  We evaluated the possibility.  
  
Haldir lives on the outskirts of Caras Galadhon in a heavily wooded area.  He likes monster trucks.  He likes fixing things.  He likes watching sports on telly, which means he might like doing sporting activities himself.  He owns a rifle.  He's not gay.  He rarely has an opinion, never expresses political views, and, as a customs agent, is surely used to putting up with a lot of crap from loud people.  Perfect.  While Thranduil was busy trying to interest grandpa in a walk over to the civic centre, we snuck into his office to ring Haldir.  Only we didn't know Haldir's number, so we had to try Orophin first.  
  
Of course we were shocked to learn from Orophin that Haldir has been in the hospital for over a week, due to a construction accident of sorts.  He didn't go into any details.  So on the one hand, I now feel sorry for Haldir being in the hospital.  But on the other, this is a perfect excuse for leaving Mirkwood.  I have to admit: I want out of here, too.  I had a quick conference with Elrohir and Legolas, and we decided that using Haldir's hospital stay as an excuse to take off for Lothlórien as soon as possible would be the best course of action.  Legolas wants to come along with us.  I'm starting to suspect that he dislikes this place as much as I do.  He always seems to want to be somewhere else.  
  
The first part of our plan is to hitch a ride with grandpa, and then somehow take a bus or train to be back here in time for our flights home.  The second part of our plan is to somehow convince Thranduil to come with us on this road trip adventure, so he can meet Haldir and they can be best pals until the end of the world (or until one of them moves to Aman, whichever comes first).  I hope he falls for our clever ploy.  We're going to tell him that grandpa is far more likely to do sporty outdoors things in his own natural habitat.  
  
December 27th  
  
Thranduil was remarkably easy to convince.  We didn't even need our clever ploy.  Last night, Legolas said we were wanting to go to Lórien to visit a friend in the hospital, and did he want to come along?  He said yes right away, and went off to pack.  I think he just likes being included in plans, and would probably have agreed to go to a forced labour camp in Mordor if that's where we were headed.  He doesn't get out enough.  We're doing the right thing by introducing him to Haldir.  
  
So we're all on our merry way to Lórien in grandpa's new Acura.  Grandpa's driving, I'm in the front, and Elrohir, Legolas and Thranduil are in the back.  Thranduil made a fuss about it, but the hard truth is that he's the smallest, so he has to have the middle seat on the bump.  That's just the way the road trip goes, and how road trips have always gone, since the beginning of time.  Big people get first choice.  Those of us who might be enhancing the truth to call ourselves 5'8" get the seatbelt that never works properly.  
  
Now I just have to figure out whether or not it's an insult that I'm in the front.  I would LIKE to think that I was allowed this seat out of respect, being the Prime Minister of Rivendell and all, but something tells me that if Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, still gets the worst spot in the car, then I'm not up here for any political reasons.  I've spent a while so far having a critical look at myself.  As much of myself as I can see while sitting in a car without a mirror, I mean, so really I've spent a while having a critical look at my upper legs and midsection.  The more I look, the more I start to convince myself that maybe I'm gaining weight.  Not too much, I don't think, but enough to make me look sort of like dad.  Which is a scary thought.  I'm going to have to take a closer, more serious look at myself when I next get to a full-length mirror.  Being dad-size already makes me fear for my future.  My love life was pathetic enough when I was a thin and vaguely athletic university student; I can't possibly see it improving if I get fat and dad-like.  
  
And I would mention the name of the person I have in mind for the improvement of said love life, only I have a sneaking suspicion that Thranduil is leaning over my shoulder right now and reading everything I type.  He should mind his own damn business and play "bigger than, smaller than" and other inane car games with Elrohir and Legolas.  
  
That's better.  
  
I blame an activity-free desk job and the distressingly delicious cafeteria dinner buffet for my predicament, and I'm sure the problem was only exacerbated by the holiday season of plentiful cookies.  Now that I think about it, I'm sure this weight-gaining has been going on for some time.  Nobody has mistaken me for Elrohir or Elrohir for me in a long while.  I know this could probably be due to our opposite clothing styles most of the time, but when we're in pyjamas or snowsuits, it would be nice to know we still look enough alike.  I might have to study Elrohir in a full-length mirror, too, as we stand side by each, to get an idea of how I SHOULD look.  
  
Elrohir just said my pants are bigger than a raccoon.  I have to go on a diet.  
  
December 28th  
  
We finally reached Caras Galadhon this afternoon, after a long and arduous journey.  It started snowing just as we reached the western edge of Mirkwood, and within twenty minutes we were in the middle of a first class blizzard.  I could barely see the road, and grandpa, who hates driving in light rain, started to get panicky.  We had to keep insisting that no, we couldn't just stop in the middle of the motorway.  He didn't want to keep on driving, but he also refused to let anyone else drive his car, so we were stuck as grandpa slogged along at thirty kilometres per hour, watching desperately for a place to stop.  
  
After an hour and a half of this nonsense, we miraculously ended up in the car park of the Country Rose Inn, in some dinky town called Rosedale or Rosevale or something like that.  The blizzard was still going strong.  Grandpa said, "We're staying here tonight," and something in the tone of his voice discouraged argument.  A unanimous decision that we would spend the night at the Country Rose Inn was quickly reached.  This is how the joke goes:  
  
The Chancellor of Lothlórien, the Prime Minister of Rivendell, and the King of Mirkwood all walk into a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere...  
  
"Sorry fellows," says the desk clerk, "but we're all full tonight due to the blizzard and so many cars pulling off the motorway.  All we have left is one room in the basement that hasn't been used in fifty years, and you don't want that one because..."  
  
I never got to find out why we didn't want the room or how the joke was supposed to end, because grandpa said, "We'll take it."  The desk clerk shrugged, took an ominous-looking key down from the highest peg, and led the way down a dank concrete stairwell toward what sounded like the boiler room.  The room we didn't want was right next door.  And it looked like the clerk was right about it not having been used in fifty years; there was an impressive layer of dust on the knob.  But he unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and said, "It's all yours."  
  
Now, compared to Thranduil's place in Mirkwood, a cheap motel room that hasn't been used in fifty years is no hardship.  Grandpa smiled brightly at the wall and said, "Look, boys, a thermostat!"  I went into the bathroom and said, "Hot running water!"  Elrohir took off his shoes and said, "Carpet!"  Thranduil looked at the electrical outlet and said, "What the hell?  How am I supposed to plug in my hair dryer?!"  Legolas said, "I told you this place would have the same plugs as Lórien."  
  
We unpacked our things and ate a few granola bars for supper, since that was the only food we had with us and the motel pub was already closed.  It was an unsatisfactory meal.  I'm still hungry.  But after granola bars came the big debate of who had to share a bed with whom.  There are two saggy-looking queen-size beds in our room, and the road trip seating rule doesn't apply to bed sharing, unfortunately.  The rule of bed sharing clearly states that the oldest sharers get first dibs.  Therefore grandpa and Thranduil are sharing one bed, and Elrohir, Legolas and I have to squish into the second.  Which I think is highly unfair.  
  
It's not that I really mind the situation, but knowing Elrohir, he'll probably situate himself in the middle, so as to cause maximum havoc.  He's inconsiderate like that.  
  
December 29th  
  
I woke up early this morning, clinging to Legolas in the saggy valley in the middle of our bed.  Elrohir was missing.  I had to remove Legolas' arms from around my middle before I found him, curled up in a nest on the floor.  He'd stolen all our blankets and lumpy foam pillows.  I threw a road map at him (the first thing I could grab from the bedside table), and asked what in Arda he thought he was doing.  He whined that the bed dipped too much in the middle (his own stupid fault for choosing to sleep there!), and Legolas and I kept sliding inward and squishing him.  So he gathered up all the blankets and went to sleep on the floor.  
  
I got out of bed, took back most of the blankets (meaning I took back two, because there were only three in the first place), kicked Elrohir in the bum for good measure, and climbed back into bed to make a cocoon with Legolas.  I tried to do this all without Legolas waking up, but the bed dipped too much when I went to lie down, and he sort of flopped inward and bonked his nose on my elbow.  After that he was distant and grumpy and in no mood for a cocoon, even though I tried to apologise and point out how it clearly wasn't my fault that the bed sagged.  He got up and went to have a shower.  Hotel and motel rooms must be a curse for me.  
  
The five of us split three remaining granola bars for breakfast, because the motel pub didn't open until two.  We left as soon as possible to find a breakfast restaurant, or at least a truck stop.  I can't live on granola bars.  Neither can grandpa.  He's a very picky eater, and not having the right kind of food at the right time makes him ornery.  He drove down the highway with narrowed eyes and dangerously thin lips.  Thranduil was also grumpy and silent, though his reason was because his pillow had been too lumpy and thin and grandpa had refused to switch with him.  
  
The only restaurant we could find was a Husky House truck stop half an hour away, at a place ominously called "Dead Man's Flats".  A Point of Interest road sign told us that this was where Isildur was killed.  By this time Thranduil had cheered up some, and wanted to get out and take pictures, but everyone else was still too grumpy and hungry.  We parked at the Husky House, ate greasy eggs and bacon, and were back in the car within forty minutes.  Thranduil had to settle for taking a picture of some trucker Dwarves filling up at the Cardlock pumps.  
  
We arrived safely (more or less) at grandpa's house several hours later, just in time to be told we were too late for supper and now had to wait until the news was over before he could fix us anything to eat.  It was Elrohir's fault.  He was the one who was reading with the window open, and his comic book flew right out as we drove up to the city limits.  It took us half an hour to find the stupid thing in the ditch, but Elrohir wouldn't stop looking, even after Legolas offered to give him $10 to buy a new comic.  
  
At 7.30 grandpa grudgingly made us frozen rising-crust pizza and tea.  Thranduil made a big fuss over saying how much he had been looking forward to a good old-fashioned home-cooked family meal, which might explain why his pizza quarter was smaller than everyone else's.  I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut and not complain.  Elrohir did one better and thanked grandpa for the delicious pizza, so he got a bowl of ice cream for dessert.  Then we were all told to get to bed immediately, because grandpa's sleeping schedule had been thrown off by the long drive and the motel room and he needed to get back on track.  
  
Legolas went to his allotted room to watch television, and I decided to go with him.  Elrohir and Thranduil opted to stay in the kitchen to make enchiladas.  I briefly tried telling them that this wouldn't be a good idea, but gave up halfway through describing the mess it would make.  They weren't listening, as usual, and Elrohir had already started mixing up some concoction of tinned beans and tomato paste.  
  
December 30th  
  
Orophin took Elrohir, Legolas and me to visit Haldir in the hospital this morning.  We left Thranduil behind with grandpa, since Orophin warned that Haldir has been in a bad mood since his accident, and we didn't want Thranduil's chances of having a new best friend ruined.  We'll scope out the situation today, and if all is well, maybe bring Thranduil to meet Haldir next week.  
  
Elrohir is convinced that being in the hospital over the holidays is one of the saddest things in the world, and I'd have to agree with him.  The half-arsed tinsel and plastic holly adorning the fluorescent-lit corridors only serve to make the place look depressing, not festive, and the "Happy New Year" banner above the information desk sure wasn't making anybody any happier.  Actually I think it was mocking us.  It made me want to leave as soon as I walked through the door.  I almost did leave when I saw a forlorn child with a broken leg, dejectedly struggling toward the empty visiting lounge in his oversized wheelchair.  Elrohir started crying and bought the boy a bag of Doritos.  Then we had to sit with him and listen to stories about his cat before two colliding nurses caused a distraction and we could slip away to the lifts.  
  
Haldir was on the fourth floor, in what I think must have been the comical injuries ward.  We quickly learned that he had fallen out of a tree while trying to hang a whirligig, and landed squarely on his bum, on top of a small stump.  According to Orophin, he has a perfectly round bruise on his broken tailbone.  One roommate was a sulking youth who had managed to set fire to his eyebrows, and the other was an surly-looking older gentleman who refused to tell either us or his wife why he was there, and shouted at us all not to look while the nurse poked and prodded at his groin and asked him if it still hurt.  
  
Haldir whined so much when it was time for his tailbone to be examined that Elrohir promised to buy him a vending machine snack if he would only shut up.  Elrohir left, and came back five minutes later with no snack.  He had given it to another kid in a wheelchair and had no more change for the machines.  Haldir went a bit psycho (probably more from the pain of having his bum mauled by a humourless nurse than disappointment over a lost chocolate bar) and yelled that he hated kids in wheelchairs.  This made the nurse glare at him, and I'm sure it was her doing that the tinned peaches were absent from his dinner tray and he had no sugar for his tea.  
  
On our way out, Elrohir and I debated going to the gift shop to get flowers for Haldir, but ultimately decided that he didn't deserve any.  We are spending the money on Nandorin takeaway for supper tonight instead.  I'll get him a cheapo gift from the Giant Tiger tomorrow.  Maybe one of those inflatable ring seats to sit on once he gets out of the hospital.  
  
When Orophin dropped us back at grandpa's place he told us that Rúmil is cooking some fancy New Year's supper tomorrow night and we're invited.  I said I'd think about it.  I was sort of surprised to hear that Rúmil was back in town; I hadn't thought about him much since I left the Grey Havens, and I guess I just assumed he was still there.  But Orophin assured me that he was back and living in a crummy flat in a bad neighbourhood, and that he was cooking a big supper.  
  
I don't really know if I feel up to going.  On the one hand, I could easily live without seeing Rúmil ever again.  On the other, he is a really good cook.  On the one hand, it would be beyond awkward to have to visit with him.  On the other, grandpa and Thranduil are going to some fancy party thing at the press club, and they'd probably drag me along if given half a chance.  I'll have to see what Legolas says.  Maybe if he's there to distract me it won't be so bad.  
  
December 31st (or January 1st, technically, since it's after midnight)  
  
What Orophin neglected to tell me is that Rúmil and Aerthos were making supper, that they moved to Lórien together and were living together in a crummy flat in a bad neighbourhood.  I was very sorry I had borrowed grandpa's car to be the designated driver.  Otherwise, I would've turned right around and gone back to grandpa's to risk being dragged to the press club.  
  
Thus I got to spend a painfully awkward evening with Legolas, Elrohir, Orophin, Orophin's girlfriend, their baby, my ex-boyfriend, and his new lover.  The food was good, but not worth the hassle.  I dropped a pork roll on my best trousers and it left an oily stain.  Aerthos avoided talking to me all night.  Whenever Elrohir began to mention something about the Grey Havens, Rúmil quickly changed the subject.  Orophin's girlfriend looked exhausted, probably because of the baby yelling and grabbing her hair, and added nothing to the conversation.  
  
The only thing that made the evening not a complete disaster was Legolas.  Aerthos said nothing, not even a mumbly snide remark, but I could see him sneaking looks at us every few minutes, obviously wondering if we were together.  I said nothing to indicate we were, and neither did Legolas, but I did do my best to sit by him and touch him on the shoulder or arm as often as possible in an effort to give Aerthos the wrong idea.  He looked upset by the possibility.  Maybe because Legolas is much hotter than he is.  And doesn't live in a crummy flat in a bad neighbourhood.  Ha!  
  
Orophin, Elrohir, and Rúmil did most of the talking.  Orophin talked about diapers, Elrohir talked all about a new Burger King commercial he's going to be in and how his agent got him an audition for an as-yet-unnamed major network mystery show (this was the first I'd heard about either of these things, and even that he has an agent!), and Rúmil talked about his new job at the Sears perfume counter.  He mentioned with a sigh that his income was the only thing paying the rent and buying food, since Aerthos was writing a book and not working.  Aerthos glared and retorted that at least he was doing something worthwhile with his life instead of flogging smelly liquid at a second-rate mall.  I think their relationship may be doomed.  
  
Rúmil also made a dessert, which was some odd gloopy rice-based substance with lychee sauce.  It tasted a bit burnt, but from the way he congratulated himself on his job well done (apparently it was very complicated to make), I think it was supposed to be like that.  Aerthos made coffee while Rúmil was doing the washing up afterward.  It seemed like a nice gesture until Rúmil saw us using the milk and sugar, and had a small breakdown.  He accused Aerthos of taking his work sugar.  Then he grabbed back the sugar Tupperware, leaving those of us who hadn't used it yet with plain black coffee.  That was almost as unpleasant as the tense atmosphere afterward.  Rúmil started making pointed little remarks about money again.  
  
I'm not sure what compelled me to casually say at this point that I'm the Prime Minister of Rivendell and recently bought a new car.  Probably Rúmil's torturous whining and sighing.  The mention of my extravagant lifestyle made Rúmil whine that he wished he had a car instead of a cheap single-zone bus pass, and made Aerthos grumble under his breath that I only got to where I am through inheritance and favouritism.  I told him to stick a cork up his arse.  He didn't reply, being unwilling to speak to me, but Rúmil did put on his sharp voice and ask us to leave.  I was glad to get kicked out.  It gave Legolas the opportunity to get all offended and glare at Rúmil and Aerthos on my behalf.  He patted my shoulder as we walked back to the car and said, "It's okay, they wouldn't know a good Prime Minister like you if it was on fire inside every magazine in the world."  Which made absolutely no sense, but was a nice sentiment all the same.  
  
We came back home and welcomed the new year with cider from a plastic bottle while watching the countdown live on television.  Elrohir said, "Shouldn't you be doing some kind of speech thing?"  Which I probably should have been doing, now that I think about it.  A shot of the press club was on, with grandpa and Thranduil hollering "Happy New Year!" and other encouragements.  No matter what Legolas says, I think the sad truth is that I am not a good PM, on fire in a magazine or otherwise.  
  
January 1st  
  
Spent most of today sitting around being depressed.  I tried to read the newspaper, but it was full of articles about people much cleverer and far more accomplished than I, so it was a lost effort.  I read one of grandpa's gardening books instead.  I now know the correct definition of a tuber.  
  
Aerthos is right.  I really am a terrible political leader, and only got to where I am because I happen to be dad's most responsible heir.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I have no relevant experience.  I spend most of my work time playing FreeCell and reading about Fëanor on Wikipedia, and then wondering why I don't have my own page on Wikipedia.  Most of all, I don't really want my job.  The more I think about how unqualified I am, the more I'm convinced that the only decent thing to do would be to ring Lindir the minute I'm back in Rivendell and resign.  I could save myself a lot of embarrassment and the government a lot of mismanagement by doing that.  
  
The only fun thing that happened all day was that Thranduil decided to try out the fishing rod he won at the press club party last night.  He tried it out off the talan and hooked the next-door neighbour's inflatable snowman, then was conveniently on the biff with a word search digest when the neighbour came over to yell at grandpa about the damage.  Now that he and grandpa are no longer on speaking terms, we're taking him to visit Haldir in the hospital.  
  
January 3rd  
  
It's almost midnight, but I'm finally back in Rivendell.  I am in my own bedroom, with no weirdos, no electric heat, no strange food, and no outdoor sports.  I think I really, really, really like home.  I have a mug of hot chocolate, and I'm going to lie in bed and watch television.  Preferably for three days.  Elrohir is playing Nintendo with the iguana.  Everything is as it should be.  I never want to go anywhere foreign ever again.  
  
Thranduil and Haldir got along famously at the hospital yesterday.  They complained about all the same things for two full hours, and by the time we had to go, Thranduil had offered Haldir a job doing some kind of security customs work in Mirkwood.  Haldir said he'd consider it.  Since his accident he's been wholeheartedly against the idea of continuing to live in a tree, so a cave in Mirkwood might be right up his alley.  I hope he does go.  If Thranduil has a friend, the likelihood of him ever wanting to have anything to do with me ever again will be very small.  
  
The down side to never travelling is that the chance of me ever having anything to do with Legolas again will be similarly very small, but maybe I can convince him to come here for a while.  If he's as big on Mirkwood as I am, that shouldn't be too tough.  
  
January 6th  
  
Got out of bed for more than an hour today to have a bath and change my clothes.  I changed into a different pair of pyjamas, but only because the other ones were getting a bit smelly, so it doesn't really count as "getting up".  I also made some real food instead of cereal and soup from a tin.  And I went to check on Elrohir.  He'd made some sort of large nest in the middle of the television room floor and had three different video game systems hooked up.  I also noticed that he'd set up the microwave on the hide-a-bed and brought up the old mini bar fridge from the basement.  He was making himself nachos when I checked in and appeared to be perfectly content, so I let him be and went to ring Lindir.  
  
I explained as professionally as I could that, as I was completely unqualified for the job and didn't have a clue what I was doing, I was resigning my position.  Lindir thanked me for my honesty, and told me he was unable to accept my resignation.  Apparently it's illegal for a Prime Minister to resign, or some such nonsense.  He can pass the office on to someone else, be removed by way of death, incapacitation, a vote of non-confidence, or a lost election, but he cannot resign.  
  
"Fine," I said.  "I'll pass the office on to you."  But Lindir sighed and informed me that I couldn't pass on the office until an election was called.  Did I ever mention that, in addition to being no good at it, I also hate my job?  I threatened to have a mental breakdown over the phone.  Lindir said he would be over straight away.  
  
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of orange juice, explaining how our electoral system works.  It sounded vaguely familiar, like something I learned back in first or second year at university.  I probably should have paid more attention then.  So as best as I can understand it, my situation is this: because dad passed the office on to me, I am essentially stuck in the position until the end of his term, which is coming up this year.  Before the end of this December, there has to be an election.  I am stuck in my job until the election is called.  At that time, I can choose whether or not I want to run for office again.  
  
I told Lindir I want an election right away.  As soon as possible, so I can ditch this job.  He said, "We'll put that up for discussion on Monday."  I think that was his polite way of saying he didn't want to think about work until the holidays were truly over.  Not that I can blame him; I don't really want to think about work either.  Preferably never again.  Or maybe he just didn't want to have an important discussion with me while I was in my pyjamas.  
  
January 9th  
  
We are having an election on May 15th!  That's not nearly as soon as I'd like, but it'll have to do.  I guess we need to give everybody a chance to get their political aspirations in order.  There hasn't been an election here since before I was born, owing to the fact that nobody's been brave enough to want to bother running against the Great Elrond.  So Lindir's predicting that this time, power-hungry maniacs and loud-mouth social reformists will be announcing themselves as candidates left and right.  
  
This means I have only a little over four months left as PM.  I can probably make it that long.  If nothing else, it's four months in which I can get really good at FreeCell.  
  
Now my only worry is how to tell dad that I'm about to become the shortest-reigning Elven leader in history.  Even Maedhros was High King for more than half a year.  I'm going to try to put the conversation off for as long as possible, or at least until the election process is so far along that I have no other choice but to step quietly aside.  
  
January 10th  
  
Alright, I didn't count on the election being such a big deal.  We only announced it this morning, and now it's all over the stupid news.  I'm starting to worry that it might be on the Tol Eressëan news, too, and dad will see it.  I'd better ring him before he does.  Tomorrow, though.  There's a good show I want to watch on television tonight.  
  
January 11th  
  
Didn't phone dad today.  I meant to, right when I got home from work, but then Elrohir was making a nice supper for once, and he'd rented a DVD that I wanted to watch, and then it was bed time...  I will tomorrow.  
  
January 13th  
  
Still haven't talked to dad.  I keep forgetting.  But tomorrow's Saturday, and that's a good phoning day.  He should be at home on a Saturday.  He probably wouldn't have been home if I'd telephoned today or yesterday anyhow.  
  
January 14th  
  
I didn't ring dad today, but for a very good reason.  Elrohir's in the hospital.  
  
I knew I shouldn't have bought him a mobile for Fiommereth.  I knew it would cause trouble.  I didn't expect this much, but really, I should have suspected that Elrohir plus a mobile phone would inevitably lead to disaster.  
  
He was hit by a car while walking across 1st Street downtown today.  He was playing Pac Man on his mobile at the time and not paying attention.  Luckily, he wasn't severely injured, but he does have a broken leg.  I've been at the hospital most of today listening to him moan.  He won't let the nurses give him any painkillers, either, because they insist that the first dosage has to be taken as a shot in the bum.  Thereafter he can have pills.  I can't see the logic behind this, unless it's to prevent fakers from taking too many drugs.  So Elrohir is moaning and wailing that his leg hurts, and I have to listen to it because he's too chicken to take a needle in the backside.  
  
He's sharing a room with a grumpy man who keeps banging on about how he's going to sue the idiots responsible for his broken elbow.  The man tripped over a "Caution: Wet Floor" sign at the mall.  I hope Elrohir doesn't get any similar ideas about suing the driver that hit him.  It was a City of Rivendell parking enforcement car, and the government doesn't need that kind of scandal right now.  
  
January 15th  
  
I talked to dad this morning.  At first I only told him about the accident and Elrohir's leg, since I really didn't want him to find out about that over the news (not that I worry too much about Valinorean news stations running a story about an idiot in Rivendell being hit by a car while playing Pac Man, but you never know; they do weird things over there).  Dad was, of course, concerned, and then had the nerve to get mad at me for not watching out for my brother!  I know that Elrohir is irresponsible and airheaded.  I know that he should have constant supervision.  But it is just not reasonably possible for me to follow him around twenty-four hours a day, making sure he doesn't fall down open manholes or crash his skateboard into parked cars.  I was at work when this happened.  Which reminds me, I need to get Elrohir a really good "Get Well" gift, for having the good luck to break his leg at 10 am.  I got to leave work to see him in the hospital.   
  
As far as I'm concerned, him having a broken leg is a good thing.  As long as he's on crutches, he won't be able to move very easily, and if he can't move, the probability of him wreaking havoc goes down considerably.  He might destroy the house, but at least that's a contained mess.  
  
I kept dad talking about Elrohir's broken leg for nearly an hour.  Then, right when he said he had to go, I casually mentioned the election.  I had been hoping he'd promise to discuss it next time we talk, and then we could both conveniently forget, but no such luck.  Actually I think the news about Elrohir only made the situation worse, because he sort of exploded and started hollering at me in Quenya.  This was both good, because I didn't catch everything he said, and bad, because he could have been threatening to fly right back home and murder me himself.  It took another hour to remind him that there had to be an election sometime this year, and May 15th is as good a day as any.  
  
I think he was mostly mad at me for not giving myself enough time to prepare a stunning campaign. I didn't bother to tell him that I wouldn't be running.  We'll leave that conversation for another day.  Preferably a day when he's not angry, or even one where he's in such a good mood that nothing will bother him.  Or when he's asleep.  
  
Four months until the election.  
  
January 18th  
  
Elrohir came home today.  I made him fishsticks for supper in honour of the great occasion.  And I bought him a Game Cube, seeing as he's going to be spending a lot of time in the house over the next two months while his leg mends.  Also because I owe him and his broken leg for giving me such a good excuse to skive off work, and because I don't want him to sue my city.  It's an all-purpose Get Well/Thank You/Please Don't Sue gift.  
  
In a further gesture of goodwill, I spent the four hours between supper and bed time playing Mario Kart: Double Dash.  I think this also cheered him up somewhat, as my dismal performance certainly helped him win.  
  
January 20th  
  
Elrohir saved me from a painful meeting this morning.  We were discussing dull election stuff (actually everyone else was discussing and I was staring at a coffee stain on the table) when my secretary came in to say that Elrohir was on the phone, and it was an emergency.  
  
The emergency turned out to be that we were out of dishwasher soap and he had no clean bowls.  But nobody else knew that.  And since I was in no hurry to go back to the meeting, I let him tell me all about the cooking adventure mess he made in the kitchen (this was why there were no clean bowls).  I asked him if he needed me to come home.  He said, "No, not really."  I asked him if he was sure.  He said, "Can you hang on a sec?  I just dropped my egg salad sandwich down the stairs."  
  
I took the fallen sandwich as a sign that I was needed at home.  I explained the situation to the meeting group, though I may have made it sound more like Elrohir had fallen down the stairs instead of an egg salad sandwich, and excused myself for the afternoon. I borrowed a Zelda game from Hi-Tech on the way home.  Elrohir deserved it, for being such a good excuse.  
  
January 25th  
  
I've been ringing Elrohir all day to see if he needs me to come home for anything, but no luck.  I think I'll have to go to the election meeting this afternoon.  
  
January 26th  
  
Well, I got to tell dad the good news tonight.  I'm running in the sodding election.  
  
Lindir talked me into it.  He said it would be suspicious if I just let the position go, and he's right.  I have to at least look like I'm putting up some kind of token fight.  And, the more I think about it, this is the better way to go.  Dad would be furious at me for just giving up, but he can't really get mad if I lose a democratic election.  It won't be my fault if people don't vote for me.  
  
So I had to endure a two-hour telephone conversation of his advice on what I should do.  Don't make outlandish promises.  Do keep stressing the same messages.  Do pretend to respect my opponents.  Don't point out any flaws in the way the government has been run in the past.  Do emphasise how well the city is doing.  Don't admit to ever wanting to move to Valinor.  
  
It all seems a bit overwhelming.  I think I'll just do as little as possible, let Lindir handle the whole campaign, and lose without too much fanfare.  
  
January 28th  
  
News reporters have been cruising back and forth in front of the driveway all day.  There is a surreptitious A-Channel van parked behind the hedge by where we put the recycling bin.  I'm afraid to open the blinds.  I just know somebody will try to videotape me doing something controversial to run on the evening news.  I'm going to try to stay indoors and well-hidden until May 15th.  
  
January 29th  
  
Elrohir is in the hospital again.  This time, he broke his arm.  
  
He got a ride downtown this morning with a City TV news van.  Originally they thought he was me, but upon realising their mistake, they interviewed him instead.  He told them he was going to buy me a birthday present, and they gave him a ride to the mall.   But on his way to the bus terminal to get home, as he struggled across Prince's Plaza on his crutches, he slipped on the icy steps and fell.  Luckily, he says my present is undamaged.  
  
But he's in a foul mood now.  He can't use crutches or even a wheelchair with his broken arm, so he can't move.  He'll be confined to a bed until March.  I tried pointing out that at least this happened in winter, when there's nothing good happening outside, but that didn't cheer him up.  Nor did the prospect of having a legitimate excuse not to shovel the driveway.  In fact, all he wanted to talk about was suing the idiots in charge of keeping the ice off the steps at Prince's Plaza.  I had to gently point out that this would be the responsibility of the City of Rivendell, and that I would have to take his suing the city as a personal offence against me.  In the end, we agreed that I would just buy him his own plasma television and he would leave the city out of it.  
  
It's possible that having Elrohir sue the city would bring attention to my leaderly ineptness, since if I'm unable to keep downtown ice-free I'm clearly unfit to govern.  But there's also a possibility that having my brother appear on the news with a broken arm and leg would turn out a large sympathy vote.  So I think it's better to play safe and do nothing at all, thus assuring that I stay in the background and well out of everyone's voting consideration.  
  
January 31st  
  
It's my birthday, and there are three and a half months left until I lose the election.  
  
So far, I have received: nothing.  Elrohir hasn't given me my gift yet, and nobody else sent anything.  We had a party at work, and I got a cake, but that doesn't count.  Cake isn't a present.  And all employees get cake on their birthdays, even the ones that nobody likes.  Furthermore, it was on the news this morning that I am an antisocial recluse, because the news people didn't see me leave the house all Saturday.  What a fantastic birthday!  
  
I'm going to see Elrohir this evening.  Being that he can neither move independently nor feed himself, he has temporarily checked in to a retirement home for disabled veterans of the Last Alliance.  He rang me today at work to say that his room is across the corridor from a man who claims to have been mooned by Sauron.  The company sounds dubious, but at least he's enjoying himself.  
  
February 1st  
  
So much for not drawing attention to myself.  A Global van followed me to the retirement home yesterday when I went to go check up on Elrohir and take him his new television.  I didn't think they could do much damage there, but no.  I was wrong.  On the front page of the National Post this morning was a story about me spending my birthday visiting disabled veterans.  
  
If that's not good publicity, I don't know what is.  Cripes!  Now the voting public is going to think I care!  Stuff like this could hamper my not-winning-the-election strategy.  
  
At least I got a birthday gift in the post, though.  Legolas sent me a book about Doriath and some fuzzy socks.  
  
February 4th  
  
It's lonely at home without Elrohir here to make things loud and messy.  And also rather bland without him to cook inventive suppers.  I'm having greasy takeaway for the third night in a row.  
  
I'm going to have to go visit him tomorrow.  He wants me to take the iguana, since the sign on the door says "Pets Welcome!", but I think that by "pets" the management means "kittens and puppies and other cuddly creatures to cheer up the veterans".  Not "elongated reptiles that might trigger bad Mordor-related memories".  Besides, the iguana is not of a shape that lends itself to being put in a pet carrier, and I don't fancy the idea of it roaming about the car while I drive.  
  
February 5th  
  
The iguana pooped on the car upholstery.  I'm never taking it anywhere ever again.  
  
I also miss Elrohir for his complete willingness to clean up lizard feces.  
  
February 9th  
  
Being alone after work is just as boring as being alone on the weekend when Elrohir's not here.  I was so bored today when I got home that I telephoned, in this order: dad, Erestor, Legolas, grandpa, grandma, Arwen, Legolas again because I remembered something I forgot to tell him the first time, Glorfindel, and Legolas for a third time.  
  
Dad was on his way out, so we only had a minute to chat.  Erestor was expecting dad to come by any minute, so I only had time to tell him that I was bored before he hurried me off the phone to go make tea.  Legolas didn't have much to say.  I told him about Elrohir's situation, but he seemed as bored as I was, so the conversation was far from fabulous.  Grandpa talked about the substandard slide projector that melted two of his holiday pictures from Mirkwood, grandma talked about the pedicure she had yesterday, and Arwen talked about the ugly new Gondorian fashion of high-waisted trousers.  Legolas was a bit livelier when I rang him back to tell him about the iguana's exploits in my car. We also talked about my election strategy (nothing) and his advice thereon (to keep doing nothing).  Only Glorfindel sounded really glad to hear from me.  
  
I think he's sorry he moved to stupid Valinor.  Every time I've talked to him, he's had at least one complaint about how it's changed too much (for the worse) since he left eight thousand years ago.  I'm not sure why he was expecting it to be the same as he remembers from his childhood, but he's easily disappointed, and Valmar let him down.  He grumped at me because they have electricity now, and most people wear regular clothes instead of their traditional pyjama outfits.  He also grumped about how Aralindë is now taking her conversion far too seriously and trying too hard to be properly Vanyarin.  She scolded him the other day for attempting some unconventional sex act that's technically illegal according to their religion.  I didn't need to know this, but Glorfindel has always had an uncanny ability to talk at length about exactly what I don't want to hear, so I now fully understand what he tried to do, how it's illegal, and why.  I do not consider myself wiser for this knowledge.  
  
I had to talk to Legolas again after that just to keep my mind from dwelling on Glorfindel.  We talked about sounds that annoy us.  My most annoying sound was a mosquito hovering above my head while I'm trying to sleep; his was his mum using the broken upright to vacuum small stones out of the garage mat.  And unless I'm mistaken, that's exactly what she was doing in the background as we spoke.   
  
February 14th  
  
Legolas sent me an e-card today, of an animated bunny jumping through heart-shaped bubbles while a high-pitched MIDI of "You Are My Sunshine" played in the background.  I would have been happier about it if I'd had the sense not to be checking my email as Lindir sat in the chair opposite my desk and talked at me about election stuff.  He gave me a cross look and I had to close the window quickly.  I hate politics.  
  
February 15th  
  
Three months until the election.  
  
Today was the deadline for nominations.  If they all pan out, I will be running against no fewer than twenty-two opponents.  Lindir was right; this city is full of lunatics all wanting in on the government action.  But he's promised me that there really won't be twenty-three names on the ballot.  Officials will be working this week to skim off the crazies and put forward only the worthwhile names.  The final candidate listing will be announced by the end of the month.  
  
My campaign team (I didn't know I had a campaign team; this is all news to me) came by my office after dinner to show me their different layout ideas for posters and banners.  All of them looked like very standard political posters, except that I was represented by an unflattering pencil-drawn likeness, since we've not taken any official campaign photographs yet.  The banner had a picture of my head on the left side and the words "Tradition and Innovation" floating over monochrome crests of the House of Finwë and the House of Elwë.  The ad managers must be trying to play up my prestigious heritage.  Probably because there's nothing else appealing about me.  One poster had a drawing of me standing between drawings of grandpa and Aragorn with the phrase "Global Integrity" splashed across our torsos, and the other was a drawing of me in the middle of a crowd of shapeless blobs, gesturing to the words "Community Commitment".  I thought they were utter crap.  So I gave the thumbs up, and we're taking pictures tomorrow.  I need some ridiculous posters to make up for the birthday fiasco at the veterans' home.  
  
February 17th  
  
It took all day yesterday, from nine in the morning until after eight at night, to take pictures for three stupid campaign advertisements.  I got to miss work, but I also had to miss sitting around all day in my comfortable office, checking email and playing FreeCell.  
  
First of all, it took two hours for the makeup, hair, and wardrobe people to agree that I was fit to be photographed.  My face felt like it was covered in a stiff mask of goop and powder, my hair was shellacked down in a helmet of tidy plaits, and the suit they put me in was snug and itchy.  Then, once I was ready, I had to wait around while the crew set up their cameras and lights.  That took another hour.  At least there was a pastry tray and coffee.  
  
The first three hundred or so pictures we took were just me standing in front of a green screen in various cheesy poses.  I had to stand and grin directly at the camera, tilt my head and smile to the right, gaze off thoughtfully into the distance, and raise my chin in a competent and trustworthy way. It took far longer than I would have expected.  We took pictures, had a coffee break, took more pictures, adjusted the lights, took more pictures, ate dinner, fixed my makeup, and took more pictures.  At three, the man in charge said it was time to head over to the public library to take some on-location photos with an assembly of extras pretending to be adoring citizens.  I had to ride in a van with the chief photographer and her assistant.  They discussed ways to make me look better on camera, as if I weren't there.  
  
The adoring citizens were assembled at the coffee-and-donuts table when I arrived.  It was ridiculously cold and windy outside, but my shellacked helmet hair stayed magically in place.  I had a donut.  I waited for the crew to finish setting up the lights and reflective discs.  I had some coffee and another donut.  The adoring citizens stared at me.  My left armpit was itching like mad from the stupid suit, but I didn't dare scratch it with all those people watching.  Finally, at twenty to five, the citizens were herded into place and I was made to stand in front of them, shaking hands with an Avarin woman as I handed her some sort of fake award plaque.  Why a community awards ceremony would take place outside in front of a library in the middle of February is beyond me, but the campaign managers seemed to think the tableau looked good.  
  
We took photos in slightly different poses from slightly different angles for an hour, until sunset dictated that there was no longer enough light.  By that time, all the donuts were gone and the coffee was cold.  We took the vans back to the studio for a union-dictated supper, which would have been much more enjoyable if I'd have been able to take off the makeup and change my clothes, but the people in charge of that were contractually forbidden from working between the hours of six and seven.  I had to wait until they were done eating before a wispy, lank-haired girl used something that smelled awfully like industrial chemicals to clean off my face.  
  
Finally, the photographers uploaded the images to a laptop, and I was able to check over our day's work.  I looked like a certified moron in each and every photograph.  Either my eyes were closed or half-closed, I had my mouth open stupidly, my pose appeared confused rather than thoughtful, or I was just staring blankly at the camera like an idiot.  Worst of all, I looked chubby.  Undeniably chubby.  I know everybody says the camera adds weight, but this is getting out of hand.  My pants are easily the size of a raccoon.  
  
Something needs to be done.  I have to go on a diet.  



End file.
